


The Weary Soul and the Bleeding Toes

by Cryellow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood, I Don't Even Know, Love/Hate, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Partial Nudity, Pole Dancing, Soulmates, Tattoos, Triggers, be warned, some serious stuff in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryellow/pseuds/Cryellow
Summary: The world is a terrible yet wonderful place. There are some people who go they're entire lives with only a few scrapes, a few bruises, maybe even a stitch or two. Then there are some people who have major accidents, and some who stay in hospitals full time. It doesn't sound too different from our world, however in this one your soulmate is your life source. Literally. If they get injured, so do you. It doesn't bother a lot of people, however for Yuri Katsuki, his soulmate seems to be pretty accident prone. Plus they're always getting bruised. Weird. (Soulmate AU!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm total trash for this anime, and yeah I was into Hetalia at one point and I got really into Snk (still am TBH) but like, this anime is killing me. I have over twelve new fanfic ideas that I have yet to write and that's killing me since my winter break is almost over and I still have a lot of stuff to do. To have so many ideas in my head and not enough time to write them is truly a travesty but I hope I am able to write as much as possible in the next few days without going mentally insane.  
> Any way, more about this fic. So My problem is I've also become a slut for soulmate au's and now I have like five different fics I want to write just based off those ideas. Now my thing is I can make this a one-shot series of different soulmate au's, sure, but the thing is some of them are longer than others and that would end me if I wanted some of them to be chapter based while other ones are only one shots. So anyway, stay tuned, but this one is a soulmate au.  
> In this fic there is some really dark stuff. Please stay safe, okay? I put a trigger warning, but just in case you didn't read, it's there. There is references to cutting, suicide, and a couple of other things. I describe the whole premise of this au in the story itself so I won't go into too much detail, but know that there are dark themes and serious stuff that not everyone can handle. That's totally fine. To some they can't ready certain things, and no one will judge you for it. With that said- it's a good story, and I'm proud that I get to tell it. It's an AU of my own creation, but please talk to me if you would like it for your own fiction. Without any other delay, here's my story!
> 
> It says M for mature because in one (maybe more I haven't decided yet) chapter there will be some content that is mature, however this first chapter and the second chapter are NOT.

Yuri woke up with his feet bleeding again.  

He was only ten. This kind of bleeding shouldn't be happening to him. He shouldn't be waking up with his feet throbbing and his sheets stained. It was odd, to say the least.  

Well, it would be if he didn't know who was doing it or how it was happening. Fortunately, his parents were still alive and they were very kind to describe his society to him at such a young age. 

Yuri got up and reached for the foot cream he kept permanently by his bed since he had turned five. It was hard to believe that such a small kid was bleeding so much at such a young age, but he couldn't control it. It wasn't his to control. Somedays it angered the small boy. He would get angry and hurt himself in return, secretly hoping he would get his payback. Other days he accepted it without question, and wondered dimly if he should invest in some type of constant foot care.   

As he rubbed the soothing cream on his feet, he remembered his parents conversation with him when the marks had started appearing with no premise.  

"Mommy, why does my feet hurt all the time? Why do I keep getting these bruises on my forearms?" Yuri had asked his parents, brandishing his arms like weapons and his tears like mini grenades. "They hurt all the time and I didn't even do anything!" 

"Well, honey," his mother had replied softly, "your soulmate must be hurt. Only your soulmate can hurt you like that. When they do something to injure themselves, it injures you too." 

"What's a soulmate? Why are they being so mean?" Yuri had asked, his tears flowing freely down his chubby cheeks.  

"They might not be able to control it, dear," his father had replied, bringing the small boy into his lap. "Maybe they got into an accident." 

"A soulmate," Yuri's mother said, wiping the tears from her son's eyes, "is someone who you'll love unconditionally. They're someone who you'll spend your life with, and who will know everything there is to know about you. Hundreds of years ago there was a story that said that humans had four arms, four legs, two heads, and two hearts. The story says that a mighty god named Zeus saw humans and found that they were too dangerous, and might overthrow him, so in his panic he separated the humans into two people. Your soulmate is the other half of a human. Remembering that we were once whole, the separate humans gained the ability to feel when the other person was harmed in any way." 

Yuri looked into the kind eyes of his mother with disbelief. His other half? He was only half of a person? But why did this other half of him keep getting hurt so much? Surely they must know that he is getting hurt too, and stop whatever they're doing? 

"Other times you don't just feel the hurt, though," his mother continued, "sometimes it's other things, like tickles or warmth. Like this," she said. His mother reached over and tickled his father, and immediately both adults fell into fits of giggles. 

"Sometimes it doesn't even hurt so bad," Yuri's father explained through his laughter. He pinched his own side and immediately Yuri's mother jumped about two feet in that air in surprise.  

"But why is my soulmate getting hurt so much?" The young boy asked, his fingers ghosting over his own injuries.  

"Maybe they play a sport," his mother said quietly. "Maybe they're practicing to be a superstar. There is a world of possibilities, Yuri. Until you meet them and ask, you might never know." 

Yuri came back to his senses in the present day, his ten year old fingers wiping the soothing crème all over his feet and arms. The sigh that escaped him was a forgiving one. Whoever his soulmate was, they sure knew how to make Yuri feel awful in the morning.  

"When I meet my soulmate," Yuri said into the silence of his bedroom, "I promise I'll slap them straight in the face." 

Then suddenly it was time for school, and Yuri grabbed his school bag and rushed out the door. 

"Did you hear about Jade?" There were students whispering around the school, the fearful tones in their voices obviously spreading a rumor that wasn't too kind. 

"That must have been pretty bad." 

"Such a shame" 

"Yuuko, who's Jade?" Yuri asked quietly when he saw her at lunch. She was his only friend, but in all honesty she was probably the only one he'll ever need. "Everyone keeps saying her name." 

"She-" Yuuko hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, but then continued obviously not wanting to hold anything back. "Her soulmate killed themselves. She died yesterday." 

A silence befell Yuri as his eyes grew wide and he pondered the information. Her soulmate...killed themselves? They can do that? 

"But that isn't her fault," Yuri protested, instinctively going to grab his own injuries on his forearms. "She didn't want to kill herself." 

"You're right," Yuuko agreed, her brown hair bobbing up and down as she nodded. "But she couldn’t do anything. She didn't even know who her soulmate was." 

Yuri felt his heart in his throat at her words. He felt his chest compress with some unknown feeling of nervous energy and anticipation. If soulmates had that much power than what could be done to stop his from doing the same? What if his own soulmate get so selfish that he doesn't care about Yuri, and hurts himself for fun, or worse, do what Jade's soulmate did.  

"Yuri," Yuuko said, grabbing his hand. He looked up into her brown eyes, his panic clear in every jerk of his body. "Yuri, yours won't do that. You'll be fine." 

Yuri blinked for a moment but nodded, the though haunting him all the same. "Yeah, okay." 

That day he was in the middle of doing his homework when he felt a poke on his shoulder. Yuri turned his head, expecting his sister to have slipped in his room, but found no one was there. Yuri shook his head and went back to work, chalking it up to his own imagination. 

When his mother called him to dinner, he went, a grumble low in his stomach and his mind lost in thought. As he sat down and started eating, he turned his head to his parents, but his eyes remained unfocused, his mind completely lost in his own thoughts. He needed to know more about his soulmate, and the connection he shared with them. Yuri found that he didn't nearly know enough about the subject. 

Yuri's mother raised an eyebrow at him, obviously noting how far away her son looked. 

"Mom," Yuri said, his voice sounding as distant as his thoughts. "Why would someone be so selfish to kill themselves when they know their soulmate will die too?" 

The reaction was immediate around the table. His sister, who had been happily eating her food stopped to stare at him. His parents shared a look between them, obviously not expecting this sort of question at _dinner_ of all places.  

"Well," his mother replied quietly. "sometimes people get really sad, and do things they don't mean. It doesn't mean that they were selfish, or wanted to hurt their soulmate. It just means that they were in a bad place, and they thought the best thing to do was to leave. What happened to make you bring this up, Yuri?" 

"A classmate," Yuri said softly, his eyes still firmly focused on the wall behind their heads. "Someone named Jade in my school died because her soulmate committed suicide." 

His parents shared a look, but they didn't seem too surprised. Perhaps this had happened to someone they knew in school, or maybe they had heard of it before. Whatever the case was, Yuri wasn't too pleased with the idea that his soulmate could control his life like that, especially when he already got enough injuries from them.  

Yuri winced as his hip suddenly hurt like he had taken a hard fall. 

"I'm so tired of getting hurt by them!" Yuri said, a tear forming in his eye as he grabbed his hip. "I hate my soulmate and I don't even know them!" 

"Yuri," his father said kindly. There was a sadness in the old man's face as he looked at his aching son. "Remember that time you were cooking with mom and you burned yourself on the stove?" 

"Yes," Yuri said bitterly, remembering how bad it had felt and how the burn took a good thirty minutes to stop aching.  

"Remember the time you cut your finger and had to go to the hospital?" His mother added. 

"Yes," Yuri said, quietly, his head tilting downward in shame. It took him a minute and then it all clicked in his mind. "Wait! You mean that hurt my soulmate, too?" 

Both his parents nodded at him. Yuri inhaled sharply, shock arching over his features. He had done all those to his soulmate, too. They were injured because of something Yuri did. For all he knew, they might hate him just as much. It left a dull ache in his chest to know that he had done those things. 

"But they were all acciden..." He said, letting his voice trail off. Of course they were, but who was to say that his soulmate wasn't just clumsy? Who was to say that they weren't just the most accident prone person on the planet? Yuri let his anger subside, and went back to learning more about the connection. 

"I have another question," Yuri said determined. He looked up into his parent's faces with his brows furrowed. His glasses had slipped down to his nose but he made no move to pull them back up. "That time that I got really sick. Did my soulmate get sick too?" 

"If you're _really_ _really_ sick, your soulmate does too, but you got better, so they probably didn't." His father said patiently. By this time everyone had finished their meal but Yuri, who had been so focused he let his meal get cold. Mari watched from the side, some of the things being said were things she didn't know about herself. Besides, she hadn't been excused from the table, and that's just plain rude. 

Yuri nodded his head, but found that he didn't have anymore questions. They had all been answered, and in some weird way Yuri thought that he could kind of answer the rest on his own.  

That night his feet were bleeding before he went to bed, and today his hips hurt especially. Yuri wondered if he would ever meet his soulmate or if he would hurt like this for the rest of his life.  

A few days later, Yuuko sees how distracted Yuri is, his head in the clouds.  

"You need something to take your mind off of it." Yuuko said the words like they were simple, like anything was possible. With swift finger she handed him a flyer for a skating rink. It had 'LESSONS' printed on the front and a picture of ice skates on it.  

"I'm not really the sporty type," Yuri had said in a small voice. He mentally recapped the hundreds of bruises he had, and how his feet constantly had blisters on them. Getting into skates might hurt him more than it would help him.  

"Just try it out, okay? If you don't like it you don't have to try again, but for now it just means we can spend more time together outside of school!" 

Needless to say, Yuri went to the skating rink.  

When he first arrived he noticed how nice it was. The ice made everything cool, and in some odd way his feet stopped aching like they knew the place. He tied on his skates with awkward fingers at first, but found that his blistered feet fit into the shoes like they were made for them, and in an odd way they matched with the skates.  

After a shaky stand and hours of skating, he found that his feet ended up having calluses on them where his skates ground into his flesh. 

Yuri blinked at Yuuko when they were going home, mentally noting all the times he had fallen, where he had fallen, and what injuries they caused.  

"I think my soulmate skates," Yuri said surprised. "I think that's why my feet hurt all the time. They must practice a _lot."_  

"Maybe they do it professionally?" Yuuko supplied with a head tilt. "There's this kid- oh but he's from Russia and he's pretty famous- but he skates beautifully! He's going to the Junior Grand Prix this year!" 

"Junior Grand Prix?" Yuri asked confused. Yuuko grinned and knew it was just the start.  

~~~!~~~   
It wasn't like Victor didn't care. He wasn't cold hearted. He actually did care, like _a lot_. It was just that he was too busy with his career to worry about it. To worry about his soulmate. 

_If they're going to be my soulmate they need to be tough enough to take it, anyway_ , Victor had reasoned with pride. _They have to be able to stand all the bruises and the falls and-_ He cut off his own mental thoughts, the idea that he was hurting someone else sour in his own brain. 

Most nights he would go to bed exhausted, his recent practice still fresh in his mind and the long hours grueling on his body. When he woke up, instead of blistered feet or nasty cuts, he found that his skin felt cool to the touch, and healed.  

It was at this point did Victor realized two things. One, his soulmate must have been healing himself and Victor, and two, that his soulmate must hate him.  

When he was on the ice his thoughts melted away like snowflakes in the summer. He found it was incredibly easy to focus on things, and noticed that his body was a piece of art ready to paint a picture. His fame, at the age of fourteen mind you, meant the world to him. He wanted everyone to know about him, and not just because he was selfish, but also because he thought that if his soulmate realized how beautiful his art was, and how hard he worked, perhaps they could forgive him for hurting them so much.  

Victor swore to himself that if he ever met his soulmate, he'd beg for forgiveness and cater to their every need. For putting up with him for so long, they deserved it.  

Victor was just glad that his soulmate hasn't made contact with him and in turn he hadn't done so either. There were kids at Victor school who said they found a method of talking to their soulmates. At first it sounded wonderful. Who wouldn't want to know who your soulmate was? Then suddenly Victor knew the truth, and he left class to go throw up in the bathroom.  

There were kids- his classmates- in their seventh year, using blades to cut on their skin and write out their names in their own blood. 

Victor was proud of his soulmate, since they didn't seem to be that stupid. Even if they never met, Victor would never want them to use their (and his) blood to communicate. It was sick, it was twisted, and it wasn't something kids should be doing in their free time.  

Someone poked Victor on the shoulder, dragging him out of his stupor as he realized he was still in the middle of class. He turned his head to face the person, putting on a smile despite how far away he really felt.  

It was around ten o' clock when Victor felt the tell tale sting of his feet. He felt bruises coming onto his arms and blisters popping on his toes. He felt utterly confused for a moment. He wasn't skating, which only left one option. His soulmate was.  

_My soulmate skates! Sweet! Maybe they have heard about me! Maybe they know who I am!_ Victor said to himself, rubbing his now sore feet. His soulmate and him really needed to make a system for these injuries. Both of them constantly in pain isn't going to be too pleasant.  

Victor felt immensely hopeful and terribly distraught all at the same time.  

_What if I meet them in a competition?!_ Victor said, shocking himself. _That would be so cool!_   

Victor wouldn't realize it, but he was in for a _long_ and complicated skating career.


	2. Teenagers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is a terrible yet wonderful place. There are some people who go they're entire lives with only a few scrapes, a few bruises, maybe even a stitch or two. Then there are some people who have major accidents, and some who stay in hospitals full time. It doesn't sound too different from our world, however in this one your soulmate is your life source. Literally. If they get injured, so do you. It doesn't bother a lot of people, however for Yuri Katsuki, his soulmate seems to be pretty accident prone. Plus they're always getting bruised. Weird. (Soulmate AU!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say but go back to Chapter one to read those notes if you didn't!  
> I use some mature themes so be warned!  
> Also, this is a time skip. In the first part Yuri was 10 and Victor was 14. Now they are 13 and 17 respectively.   
> Have fun! (I sure did writing this)   
> Oh and the M rating should be in place around the next chapter or the one after that, so don't be too off-put.  
> Check out my other stuff! ~Cryellow

"OW!" Yuri screamed, His thirteen year old voice piercing the common room of the inn over the TV. "Vicchan!" 

Yuri had been sitting on the floor, rough housing with the dog, while simultaneously watching Victor Nikiforov's new free skate on the TV. It was a master piece, that was for sure. The man was a master at the ice, his hands going up in the air and his jumps masterful in their appearance. His dark red outfit resembled crimson blood and he wore it like it was a second skin. Ever since Yuri had started skating he had idolized the man, who was only four years older than him in all honesty, and he had poster upon poster of the skater in his bedroom.  

He'd gotten plenty of cuts while putting the posters up, but Yuri called that payback since his soulmate had apparently fell from a tree  a while back and hit every branch on the way down. Yuri also had a growing suspicion that his soulmate had also gotten a dog, since every once in a while he would see claw marks on his arm and chest. Don't even get Yuri started on the amount of times he had felt his hair pulled in the last year or so. Too many times. 

Victor had went to make a jump, a triple lutz, when Vicchan distracted Yuri and bit his arm. The dog, in his playfulness, didn't know that he had just disrupted Yuri from watching the dog's namesake. What had started out as Yuri play fighting with his dog, now turned into Vicchan taking a chunk of his master's arm.  

"Vicchan we don't bite!" Yuri dropped his attention from the TV and made his way over to some spare cabinets, grabbing a clean cloth and wrapping it around the now bleeding wound. "Oh geez. I'm missing Victor's free skate! Dang it all." 

The dog jumped and barked at his master, thinking they were still playing the fun game. Yuri left the common room, heading to the bathroom in haste, his arm dripping pretty badly on the floor. 

"MA!" He called out, putting his wound over the sink. "I might need to get stitches- AH- it's pretty bad." 

"What's that, dear?" His mother called, walking towards him from the kitchen. She put her hands on the side of her face at the sight of Yuri's injury, her feet mid walk. "Oh dear. What happened?" 

"I was rough housing with Vicchan and he bit my- ahhhh- my arm," Yuri said, squeezing the wound with all the force he could. 

"Alright honey I'll get my things. Just keep pressure on that, okay?" His mother walked as fast as she could, going to grab her purse most likely, although Yuri was too distracted to notice. He wrapped a fresh bandage around the wound and went back to the TV, hoping to at least see the end of the performance.  

Victor looked like he was wincing- almost as if it hurt him to skate. He twirled in his dark red outfit with a little difficulty, his arm looking a little loose. His long silver hair was flowing behind him, the seventeen year old covered in sweat. 

"Oh and it looks like Nikiforov is in pain! That lutz must have been a rough landing, seeing as he flubbed the jump, but it seems like he injured himself too." The commentator's voice was loud over the song, the tone in his voice betraying how disappointed he really felt.  

"What?!" Yuri said, almost completely forgetting the dog bite. He stared with an open mouth as Victor nailed his next jump, though, his will strong despite how much pain he must have been in.  

"Yuri! We need to get you to a hospital!" His mother put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the door.  

"The free skate, mom! I can't just _miss_  it!" Yuri protested, his hand still putting immense pressure on the bite.  

"Well it's either get it stitched up now or your soulmate will be in a world of pain, not to mention yourself," his mother reasoned, pointing to the bite. "Do you honestly want to do that to them?" 

"They tripped up the stairs yesterday, so honestly I'm sure they'll be fine," Yuri said. He continued to stare at the screen as his mother pulled him backwards.  

"Yuri Katsuki put your shoes on and let's _go_ ," She said firmly. Then suddenly Mari came out of no where and turned the TV off, folding her arms at her brother.  

"Seriously, Yuri. It's like you don't even care about your soulmate." Mari said with a head shake. 

Yuri gave a huff, turned around, and made no comment.  

A few stitches and an hour later and Yuri felt pretty miserable. 

"Do you think he won, mom? Even though he missed the landing-" Yuri was sitting still as the doctor bandaged him up, his curious eyes on his mother.  

"Yuri you just got bit by the dog and all you want to talk about is Victor." His mother said with a stern look. "Honestly." 

"Okay but-" 

"You're free to go," the doctor said with a smile, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Just try not to stretch the stitches or do anything too rough with that arm." 

Yuri nodded his head in earnest, ready to go home and see the results of the free skate. He got up from his seat and left behind his mother with swift strides. Before he made it to the door, however, he felt the ghost of a kiss on his new wound. Yuri looked down in shock at his arm, pretty sure that he hadn't imagined it. He blinked his eyes for a moment and in a reflex gesture he couldn't understand, kissed the wound too.  

"I'm sorry," Yuri whispered lightly. He didn't get a response, but then again he wasn't hoping for one.  

~~~!~~~ 

Victor's soulmate sure gave him a run for his money. It was almost as if they were as accident prone as he was. Victor was unsure if he loved this person or truly hated them. After years of dealing with this person he had made a list of things he knew. 

  1. His soulmate had a loving family. Victor felt tickles and loving kisses on his cheeks about once a week. There was no stopping it, and sometimes he ended up in fits of giggles in the middle of practice, to his enormous dismay. 


  1. His soulmate reaaaally liked paper. Either they were a serious artist of they had a bunch of posters, he wasn't sure, but the paper cuts he got in the middle of class were not pretty. They hurt, a lot.  


  1. His soulmate had a bully, maybe even two of them. On numerous occasions he had felt someone poke his stomach, and the feeling of falling on his butt, even when he was upright.  


  1. His soulmate knew how to skate, but unfortunately they were _not_  good at making jumps. He got way more bruises on his elbows than he was supposed to. That was for sure.  


  1. His soulmate had a lot of nervous habits. Victor felt his lip split almost three times a week from bites, and every once in a while he'd feel a dull pressure in his head from what felt like his fingers pressing into his eyes.  


  1. The newest addition to his soulmate's list. They apparently also had a dog. 



The only reason Victor Nikiforov knew the last bit of information is because of the awful pain he felt in the middle of his free skate during the Junior Grand Prix Final. At seventeen he still qualified for the event, hoping to get gold before he made his senior debut. He thought that was thrown in the trash, since the pain made him lose focus and flub his triple lutz.  His soulmate was a skater, so surely they had heard of him! And if they did, who in their right mind would get hurt while he was skating?!  

If his soulmate really had heard of him, it made Victor a little mad. _Why would you do this to me in the middle of a performance?! Couldn't you at least waited until I got off the ice?!_ Victor had silently thanked every deity known to man that he was wearing a dark red suit, or else it would have been awful to look at during his performance.  

When he had skated over to the kiss and cry, Yakov frowning with all of his being, Victor immediately pulled up his suit to see the bite. Any foul words Yakov had, died in his throat and he handed over a cloth to Victor.  

"Ahhhh. What the hell," Victor said, putting pressure on the wound.  

"Your soulmate?" Yakov said, unimpressed. Victor knew for a fact that Yakov hated Victor's soulmate, since he put him through so much trouble all the time.  

"Apparently- Bor-they have a pet. A dog maybe- uhhh- or maybe they got bit by a stray. I'm not sure," Victor said, the Russian name of God escaping his lips reflexively.  

"Will you need stitches?" Yakov asked, his hands in a firm cross over his chest. It took a moment but Victor felt some sort of numbing agent run through his veins, the feeling of a pin prick right on the bite. 

"Nyet," Victor replied, the Russian just escaping him. He could have said no in English, put being in pain made him revert to his mother tongue. "They're getting treated now, apparently. I can- AH- I can feel them getting stitches themselves." 

"That doesn't mean you won't need them too, Vitya. Go to the med stand by." Yakov said, shaking his head disapprovingly.  

Victor walked over, looking at the rough wound on his skin. He could see the wound being cleaned (it was fascinating to watch in all honesty, to know that somewhere his other half is being stitched up) and walked over to the EMT's that were at every skating match. Skaters get hurt. Like a lot. 

"Can I –er- can you stitch this up for me? My soulmate-they uh-" Victor said a little unsure. He shook his head, trying to get his composure back. He was Victor Nikiforov, dammit! He was famous for his charming smile and good looks. That needed to be every aspect of who he is. He smiled at the woman on the sidelines. "They seem to have injured themselves and I'm getting the repercussions." 

The woman turned her head from the conversation she had been having with someone (Victor really didn't know. He was just focused on getting his wound stitched) and nodded sweetly at him. "You need your ankle stitched? I saw how bad you fell on your lutz. I'm so sorry-" 

"Thank you, but it's actually my arm. It seems my soulmate was bitten." Victor said, brandishing his arm like it was a trophy. To him is sort of _was_. It meant that he had a soulmate at all, and that they were a _living breathing_ ** _person_**. He struggled to remember that on some occasions. Mainly when he was the one injuring himself. Like yesterday when he had been stretching and exercising before his short program and accidentally fell up the stairs. He was still _human_. Even world class professional skaters fell up the stairs sometimes.  

"Oh," the EMT replied, taking out a medical kit. "Well if it hurts I can give you some numbing-" 

"They've already taken care of that on their end," Victor said kindly. "I just need it stitched, please." 

Within a few minutes the woman had it done.  

"You should be careful with that arm until it heals. If you're lucky it should be able to get the stitches out in about two weeks, but you really should watch out for how you move it when you're skating." The woman smiled kindly to him, putting her things away. Victor nodded his head, thanked her, and left back to find Yakov, hopefully to see how terrible he really did.  

When he found his coach again, Yakov had a small smile on his lips, facing the scoring.  

"So?" Victor said with a tilt of his head, "how did I do?" 

"You got first place, but we still have one more skater and that _lutz_ ," Yakov said, shaking his head again, but suddenly he was barraged as Victor hugged him, his bright platinum hair shining under the many bright lights in the stadium. Victor was thankful for how tight his ponytail was. He really was good at pulling it back, even if he did pull it so hard it left tears in his eyes. 

" _Vitya_ , You are seventeen," Yakov said grumpily, but he didn't make any move to pull away. When Victor finally did, he pulled his suit back to look at his arm once more.  

_It looks like you didn't screw me up after all,_ Victor thought. He leaned forward and kissed the wound, hoping one day he would be kissing the lips of his soulmate instead.  

" _And with a whopping twenty point lead, Victor_ _Nikiforov_ _of Russia wins the Junior Grand Prix!"_  

One day he'd get back at his soulmate. It seemed they were in a big game of cat and mouse all the time anyway, but for now Victor sighed and received the medal.


	3. Bitter rivalries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is a terrible yet wonderful place. There are some people who go they're entire lives with only a few scrapes, a few bruises, maybe even a stitch or two. Then there are some people who have major accidents, and some who stay in hospitals full time. It doesn't sound too different from our world, however in this one your soulmate is your life source. Literally. If they get injured, so do you. It doesn't bother a lot of people, however for Yuri Katsuki, his soulmate seems to be pretty accident prone. Plus they're always getting bruised. Weird. (Soulmate AU!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! HAPPY (early) NEW YEAR! I just wanted to post a new chapter of this story, since I have been totally in love with since I came up with it! The feedback has been amazing, and the Kudos helps my soul.   
> Few Notes about this chapter in particular: There is some explicit stuff in here. It's... I can't really say it unless you read it, since hints will ruin the chapter, but it's pretty heavy.   
> There's explicit sexual scenes in this chapter, so be warned.  
> This is also another time skip (note that I do this with all my chapters, usually in year ranges) This one skips to Yuri being 18 and Victor being 22. Both of them are adults now, however Yuri is finishing his last year up at school.  
> I really loved writing this chapter so I want to play a game in the comments. Copy your favorite quote from this chapter/the story in general and put it in the comments with a reaction! I love feedback of ANY sort and even making a simple comment helps boost my want to write. I hope you enjoy this one! <3 ~Cryellow

Yuri was horrified. That's the only sane reaction someone could have to what he had just experienced. He was utterly and terribly horrified.  

And _Oh_ was he going to get back at his bastard of a soulmate.  

Yuri Katsuki was in his last year of grade school. He was eighteen, he was anxious, and he was ready to go to Detroit and become a professional ice skater. Sure, some people had been in the skating scene for years. Some people were talented enough to win medal after medal. 

People like Victor Nikiforov had been in the skating world for many years. 

Yuri, on the other hand, had decided that he wouldn't step foot on the ice until he knew he earned it. Until he was sure he was worthy of it. He was determined to be good enough, but he knew with every fiber of his being that he hadn't reached that point yet. He hadn't even come close enough.  

His parents accepted this- his determination. He had a strong drive to do what he wanted, regardless of the evident consequences. They supported him in everything he did, even if he failed. Well, almost _especially_ when he failed. It gave Yuri immense satisfaction and a horrible shame deep in his chest every time he thought about it.  

"I will be good enough," he would say through gritted teeth as he got up from the ground where he had fallen. "One day I will meet Victor on the ice." 

Yuri was so obsessed with meeting his idol, and competing against him, that it made him lose his better judgement with his own injuries. Several times he had come close to his breaking point, the cold sweat pouring down his back and his lungs burning from inhaling freezing air that never seemed to fill him. _If they skate too they have probably heard of Victor and when I meet them they'll understand,_ Yuri had said the words like a mantra, picturing his soulmate feeling the injuries without any warning.  

It was after several years of ice skating, un relenting ballet lessons, and constant bleeding toes before Yuri and his soulmate made a system. It seemed to be that every time Yuri was training, his soulmate was not, and when he was not, his soulmate was. Whenever one of them was skating, the other seemed to have a soothing cream to rub on the sore wounds, or pain meds in the closest vicinity. It was odd at first, but the years of his adolescence had taught him a lot about his soulmate. Yuri knew for sure that his soulmate lived in a different time zone, however it seemed to him they traveled an awful amount of times a year.  

_Maybe they skate professionally themselves?_ Yuri had asked himself, mentally flipping through all his favorite skaters. _Perhaps they figure skate? Or maybe they speed skate? W_ _hat if they play_ ** _hockey_** _?_  

The possibilities were endless, or so it seemed to him, until he had voiced his thoughts to Yuuko. She seemed to be the only one to really understand skating in his entire town. Well, other than Minako his ballet instructor and himself of course, but Yuri sometimes felt like he never knew enough about skating. He could train his entire life and never know everything.  

"Well," Yuuko had said, her slim fingers twisting the wedding ring she had got from Takeshi around her finger, "I mean you always had _jump_ bruises as a kid, and besides, with the force of the falls, figure skating is the only real activity that fits." 

Yuri had felt a ray of hope open in his chest, maybe one day he might skate _with_ his soulmate! The thought gave Yuri immense pleasure. He looked with bright eyes at Yuuko, the possibilities endless in his own head. 

"I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I'm not." Yuuko said with a smile and a laugh. Yuri wasn't sure, but he had a deep gut feeling that she was right. 

The years had gone by faster than Yuri thought they would go. Pretty soon he was in the last stretch of his school year, the days getting shorter and colder as the winter season approached with icy fingers. Yuri had just gotten off the train headed for home after a particularly long practice at Ice Castle (Minako, bless her heart, watching with bated breath as he made each turn, twist, and jump) when he met a few boys from his school. They were just hanging out in near a merchant, it seemed to Yuri. The boys were ordinary- most of them were in the film club or the swim team- so Yuri paid no real mind to them. He continued on his walk, about a street away from being home when he heard a voice behind him. 

"Hey Katsuki!"  

Yuri turned around nervously, the tone of voice had not been exactly a pleasant one. He dug his nails into his palms sharply, every instinct telling him to run as fast as he could in the other direction. 

"Yes?" He supplied despite himself. When he had fully turned he took in the sight in front of him. There were four boys, three of them looking pretty casual, like they wanted to talk and not to fight with Yuri. The fourth one, who had called out for the fellow classmate, was looking at him expectantly, a hand forward as if to grab him (which was silly since he was so far away). Yuri chastised himself for reverting back to his younger self in his haste. When he was a kid, he had always been bullied for his weight, for how dorky he looked, or generally how bad he was at, well, everything. It didn't help very much with how Yuri dealt with suspicious people.  

Yuri winced as he felt his soulmate take a tumble in some far off place, pain shooting through his right side as he stood in front of the other men. 

"I really should be getting home. What is it?" Yuri tried to say politely, shifting his wait to the easier side. He bent a little in anxiety as he realized his words came out a little harsh. "I mean no ill-will. I just have things to do." 

"I-uh-" the fourth boy said, his hand still outstretched. He lowered it, closing his fingers hesitantly. The other teen looked- was he nervous? About what? Surely Yuri hadn't done anything to him? The boy turned to his friends, who nodded their heads in encouragement. Obviously the boy was building up for something, what it was Yuri had no idea. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.  

Unfortunately, the boy must not have been as nervous as Yuri thought.  

"I wanted to talk to you. See, I wanted to know how such a cute dorky guy like you ended up getting a scholarship to a school in America." The boy took a few steps closer to Yuri, who leaned back a little, and pointed to Yuri's luggage, which held his skates. "Is it because you skate?" 

Yuri didn’t even have time to think over what was said, let alone process it to all it's depth. All of his alarm bells were going haywire, and in his utter nervousness he felt like he might throw up. How did he get a scholorship? It was an easy question, and the boy had already answered it, which meant the only purpose for the question was to throw Yuri off. To- _wait._ A mental record scratch sounded in Yuri's head as he repeated what the boy had said. _Cute_. 

"Yeah," Yuri said, his mouth moving despite the volcano in his brain erupting. "There's this place called Ice Castle I go to all the time and-" 

"Can you teach me?" Yuri looked at the boy and examined him. He was only slightly bigger than Yuri was, about a few centimeters or so taller and by no means fatter, and he had curly dark hair and bright green eyes. Yuri was unsure why almost a complete stranger would want him as a trainer of all things. Yuri was still learning _himself_. The boy took a step closer, his hands making a fake prayer pose in between his forest green orbs. "Maybe sometime next week?" 

Yuri hesitated looking at the boy, but eventually it all clicked. He didn't want to hang out with Yuri for skating. He wanted Yuri for something _else_. 

 "I'm not really good enough to teach anyone," Yuri replied, nervous laughter escaping him. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he reasoned with the boy, putting his hands up in a placating manner.  

"But you got a scholarship! To go to Detroit, no less! You're probably _great_ at it. You should totally teach me and then maybe we could get some coffee afterwards!" 

"Look, you seem nice, but I have a soulmate, and so do you-" Yuri said, his eyebrows high on his still sweaty-from-practice forehead.  

"Soulmates are dumb!" The boy took another step closer, in Yuri's personal space now. His eyes glinted with mischief as he looked at Yuri and Yuri felt his glasses shift downward as sweat beaded on his head. "Why are we _given_ something at birth that should be our _choice_? We are born connected to this person who carries our life like a porcelain bowl, praying that they make no fatal move or it ends us too! I want to be able to _choose_ my soulmate!" 

Yuri opened his mouth in shock, the words honestly stunning him. It wasn't like he hadn't had those same thoughts. In all honesty, he can't even say that he didn't feel the same way. Yuri's soulmate was _constantly_ getting injured and in return, so was Yuri. Surely they hated him for sure by now. Yuri sure knew there were times were he hated _them_. Shouldn't there be a line in the sand for this sort of thing?  

But Yuri's soulmate was a skater too. Without actually knowing the truth, Yuri had a feeling that his soulmate would understand him. He'd understand what it feels to strive for greatness, and dance until the world looks fuzzy. His soulmate even creamed up both of their feet when the pain got too bad, and more than once Yuri had felt what he was pretty sure were love bites on his arms. There was one time, after he had passed out from exhaustion, a headache larger then the moon knocking him out right on the floor of Minako's dance studio, where Yuri swore he felt a kiss on his hand. Later when he had asked Minako why she had done it, she had responded with a firm "I didn't kiss your hand Yuri, that's weird." 

But above all, his soulmate was a skater, meaning they would know better than _anyone_ how Yuri felt about Victor Nikiforov and they'd be the one person not to look down on him for it. After all, it wasn't just Yuri who idolized Victor. It was the whole skating _world_. Victor won time and time again, and even though Yuri knew deep down he should probably reserve that kind of admiration for his soulmate, he knew his soulmate wouldn't begrudge him for it. Maybe, just maybe, they idolized Victor that much too. 

"For all your obsessing, your soulmate might as well be him," Takeshi had said one day, many, many years ago.  

"Anyone who knows anything, knows that Victor already knows who his soulmate is," Yuuko had said, slapping Takeshi's arm angrily (which got a smack of her own, to her dismay). "He dedicates almost every performance to them. He's talked about them in interviews, too. He says they're the 'most perfect person for him, and he couldn't ask for anyone else'. Plus, in the latest interview, Victor said they had 'eyes that shined brighter than the stars'. That sure doesn't sound like someone who hasn't met their soulmate alread-" 

Yuuko had cut herself off after taking a look at the utterly demolished look on Yuri's face.  

"I mean, it could all be lies!" She had said, trying to cheer him up. "There sure are a lot of Solo's out there, trying to get him to love them! He might have said it to get them off his back!" 

Solo's. That's the word for people who don't feel the connection between soulmates. The one's who were born already "whole". Those ten percent of the population who Mother Nature dubbed unmatchable and stuck a middle finger in their faces. Some of the Solo's decided that they were okay with it, that they were happy to go about their lives, living on their own terms with no draw backs and no worries of being killed by someone else's clumsy hand. The others, the one's who were angry at Mother Nature and told her to screw herself, those were the people who dated around. They stole other people's soulmate's or sometimes Solo's found each other. Occasionally they worked out, and lived happy lives, but most times the only thing to be gained was a weaker heart. 

Yuri had a crawling sensation up his spine as all the pieces formed together like a neat little puzzle, the reality of his current situation like a Bosch painting, all chaos and different layers and elements. The boy with the orb-like green eyes and curly hair furrowed his brow with a frown, taking one more impossible step and making the space between his and Yuri's bodies only a centimeter at best. It was very clear that the person in front of him had never felt what it was like to get injuries you didn't cause and feel pain when you did nothing to induce it. It was very clear to Yuri that the boy in front of him didn't feel that _connection_. The deep aching pull of knowing that everything you did was harming someone else and that the ghost touches felt in the silence of a room weren't your own skin meaning to be skimmed. 

"I should be able to chose," He repeated, his breath tickling Yuri's face and fogging up his glasses. He wanted to throw up or scream, he didn't know which, but probably both.  He tried to back away, only to find that he was against a wall. The three men accompanying the Solo stood in shock, obviously not expecting this result from the boy's actions. All three of them looked like they were ready to run away at any moment and leave the scene as fast as possible. It was very obvious in the way they stood behind the boy that they would ditch him at any given moment, and that pure shock and curiosity were the only thing keeping their antsy feet in place.  "And I chose you, Yuuri. For months I watched you wince in class as your soulmate tore your body apart. I saw how hard you worked, and there were times I saw pure determination on your face. I-I didn't have the courage to come up to you until now. I knew for sure that you had a soulmate, so why would you want me? And then I remembered that you don't know who your soulmate is, just like one fourth of the damn population. You don't know who's injuries you bear, who's scars you claim on your body. You don't know them, and they don't know you. How could it be fate, a _soulmate_ , if you go through so much for an utter stranger? How can you love someone you've never seen before?" 

The Solo searched Yuri's eyes for any answer, but Yuri had none. The whole situation was almost comical. The boy was making total sense and yet saying total gibberish, all while having Yuri backed against a wall. The best part was... 

"I-I don't even know _you_." Yuri said, a firm crimson blush warm on his cheeks. The boy swallowed Yuri's every word, almost looking hungry to hear what Yuri had to say. "I don't even know your name. I can _feel_ _my_ soulmate. It's not something you need to express. I'm sorry you're a Solo- really I am- it's hard to come to terms with that in a society swarmed with couples- but you are more of a stranger to me than my soulmate ever was. I've known them for _years_ and I've known you twenty minutes. This connection is a _feeling_ and it's hard to describe-" 

"So don't," the boy said in his anger, and he cupped Yuri's face and kissed him full on the mouth. Poor Yuri didn't even have time to fight back- he had been so shocked by the two simple words he had opened his mouth to gasp in surprise. What he got instead was a stranger's lips, almost feeling like acid against his own.  

Yuri didn't have a choice. He did what he had promised the younger him never to do. He fought back. When Takeshi would poke at his chubby stomach or the bullies would make fun of his glasses, he never once retaliated. He took it like he always had, making no comment but being disgruntled all the same. But _this_ broke every rule Yuri had ever set for himself. It shattered what little control he held. He took his right leg, still sore from dance and then skating after that, and he kicked the boy over, straight onto his ass.  

The boy cried out in shock, surprised to find himself on the floor. Yuri looked down on him, a disgusted frown on his face. He wiped his mouth with his hand, his palm shaking against his lips. 

"Leave me alone," Yuri said, deadly silent. "I am loyal to my _soulmate_ _._ Not a stranger." 

With frantic scrabbles Yuri heard feet retreating down the street. His face remained focused on the road as he finally made his way home.  

_God_ was he going to get his soulmate back for this. He was going to make them _pay_ for this with everything he had. 

It had been a day since the incident, Yuri having never said a word about the assault to anyone. No one knew except the three buddies and the Solo. No one. 

_Stupid_ , Yuri thought bitterly. _I am so stupid. They could feel everything, of course they knew it happened!_ Which also meant... 

_They felt the kiss._ Yup. Yuri seemed to have gotten to the route of the problem. Apparently, his soulmate had a jealousy problem. A big one. 

Yuri was in the middle of a class presentation, his note cards in his hands and a nervous energy in his stance. His forehead was sweating lightly under the gazes of all his classmates and he had started his presentation with a weak smile, thinking the required twenty minutes couldn't go by faster.  

It was around five minutes into his presentation when he felt hands ghosting over his collarbone slowly and longingly. Yuri stuttered for a moment but kept going, his mind splitting in half. One half was on the project in front of him and the other was on the ghost's movement and trying to figure out why of all times his soulmate decided that now was the best time for these actions. 

He felt the ghost hands rub at his nipples, making them hard pin pricks under Yuri's shirt. (Thankfully he had decided to wear two shirts today to hide his sweat, since they now covered up his rapidly swelling nipples.) He felt the ghost hands twist at the hard stubs, and Yuri refrained from crying out. He felt the rush of blush to his cheeks as he tried his best to continue the conversation he was having with the class. What was his soulmate doing in order for Yuri to feel this movement?  

Of all the fucking times his soulmate could have done this activity, they decided that _right now_  was the time to try something new. Years of injuries and swollen toes and they decided _today_  was the day to release pleasure onto Yuri's body. Yuri gave a little gasp in between slides as he felt the ghost hands going lower, lower, _impossibly_   _lower_.  

_Oh God,_  Yuri thought in a mix of scared and enthralled. He wasn't sure what it was, but he liked it, and he _hated_  that he liked it. He was in _class,_ in front of _people_.  

"Yuri?" His teacher called, a brow high in the air. Yuri swallowed for a moment and turned to them, never looking them in the eyes from shame.  

"C-can I use the bathroom?" He asked, the stutter coming out against his will. He felt the hands _moving_  and gracing so lightly on his skin he almost couldn't feel it. The only thing this was doing was giving him goosebumps and a tight feeling deep in his gut. 

"Yuri you're in the middle of the presentation," they reasoned with him. "You have about 5 minutes left and then you're done-" 

"Okay," Yuri said, determined to try even though he _probably shouldn't for his own sanity_. He continued anyway, his now sweaty hands clasping together in front of him.  

_No_ , he thought to himself as he felt the ghost hands move to his inner thighs, the shallow touches almost worse than any burn he could have received. The hands rubbed at his thighs, massaging ever higher slowly and _slowly_. 

"Yuri, you can go to the rest room now," His teacher said, to his relief, and he almost sprinted to the bathroom in his haste, his cheeks burning crimson under his drooping blue glasses.  

I was the most horrifying experience Yuri had ever had, and yet- 

As Yuri entered a stall (thank _God_  the bathroom was empty) the hands clasped him firmly on the groin, the touch jerking Yuri almost a foot in the air. _So my soulmate's a man._  Yuri thought bitterly. _How utterly rude of him to do this at this hour_. 

Yuri would have been shouting any obscenity he could, however it seemed his voice died with his dignity. The ghost hands weren't done. Instead they started moving, slow at first, the movements fluid back and forth against Yuri as he sat still on the toilet. One phantom hand caressed between his thighs while the other roamed his body, touching his cheek, his lips, his chest. With shaking hands, the boy pulled his pants down and revealed his throbbing member, harder than he thought was ever possible.  

When Yuri was told about his soulmate, it never bothered him to ask about pleasure. He assumed that things like _this_  weren't shared with your partner and he assumed they were best kept to yourself. He had never done anything like this in his life. Yuri had been fairly determined to wait until he _met_  his soulmate at the least. Possibly to share it with them.  _Boy_  was he wrong. 

Back and forth the hands moved on Yuri's member. It didn't move _Yuri_  per say. It was more of a feeling. He could feel the movement happening and he couldn't stop it no matter how hard he tried. Later Yuri will think that maybe he could have bitten himself, or perhaps slapped himself enough to let his soulmate know that what they were doing wasn't appropriate. Now, however, he closed his eyes in horrid fascination as he felt the hand get ever so faster, making Yuri's hips jerk and his lips quiver. He made no move to touch himself, instead relenting to the swift onslaught of the phantom hands.  

Yuri felt himself build and build, his gut twisting and his body sweating under the attack. He heard himself omitting little moans, unable to hold them back from the sheer pleasure he was feeling. His own hands were frantically searching for any purchase they could find, the toilet bowl, the wall, _anything_  to clasp onto. 

Finally Yuri had reached his peak, the pleasure consuming him as he surrendered to it, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes blacked out for a moment as he felt himself climax, the messy whiteness expelling from him against his will.  When Yuri's bleary eyes refocused he remembered where he was and attempted to clean himself up, his impossibly warm cheeks violently red on his face.  

He sure didn't expect anything like this when he had left the house this morning.  

As he finished up Yuri felt himself get impossibly mad at his soulmate. He was in the middle of _class_  for goodness sake! If he had stayed there any longer he would have been stared at by everyone he knew!  

Needless to say, Yuri Katsuki was none too pleased, and he was plotting his revenge with every step he took back to class. 

~~~!~~~ 

Victor Nikiforov was _floored_.  If he had to pick a word for his most dominant emotion, it would be that. Angry, mad, infuriated, irate, and a little (he would never admit it) betrayed.  

He had just skated onto the ice, his last season a warm memory in the twenty-two year old's mind. He had won silver at the Senior Grand Prix, and he was certain that he would get gold next season, not matter what the cost. Whoever his soulmate was, they were going to be _proud_.  

After warming up and skating around the ice a few times, Victor started practicing his jumps. His feet were already sore from what he assumed was his soulmate's own skating practice, and if anyone asked him, he'd blame the fall on that. He tumbled onto his right side, his body sore as he hit the ice.  

"Ah-" Victor said, standing up. He skated over to the wall, rubbing his side as he took a breather. He grabbed his water bottle and took a few sips, the coldness refreshing him. He felt rejuvenated, he felt _ready_. He felt like he could skate for hours, just knowing that his soulmate skated too. It never ceased to please him. He put his water down, turning to go back to the middle of the rink, when he felt hands cup his face and a sudden warmth on his lips.  

Victor stood in shock, his eyes wide, as he felt invisible lips against his own.  

His _soulmate_. Was _kissing_. Someone _else._  

After 22 years of waiting, of keeping himself lonely when so many Solo's and even soulmated-people threw themselves at his feet, his soulmate has the _nerve_  to kiss someone else!  

Victor Nikiforov was pissed. He was hurt, he was sore, he was disgusted, and he was _pissed_. 

He spent so much time preaching to the cameras, telling them how amazing his soulmate was, and how they must be the perfect person. And yeah, admittedly, he made it sound like he knew who his soulmate was, because if he didn't then they pestered him. They had asked him question after question just about his _soulmate_. He had decided early on that he wanted his soulmate to love him, and to know how hard he really worked. 

And here he was, his skates sore on his ankles, his short silver hair swooped to the side, and he felt his soulmate kissing someone else's lips.  

Well his soulmate was going to learn something about Victor. He was going to learn that Victor got mad, and when he got mad, he got even too.  

Victor continued practice, his ears practically fuming, and came up with a bitter plan cruel enough to teach his soulmate the lesson. 

When he woke up the next day, his poodle Makkachin sleeping soundly on the floor, his fluffy chest rising and falling with his breathes, Victor finally put his plan in motion. He had spent _years_  learning about his soulmate. His soulmate started ballet practice around 9 (Victor's legs always felt sore from stretching), and went skating mostly around 11 (Victor always felt the familiar rub of skates on his callused feet), before then Victor wasn't ever quite sure what he did, but most of the time Victor felt a tap on his cheek like it required a bit of focus. The Russian had deduced a few things, that his soulmate was probably still in school and that they lived in a different time zone, about six hours ahead of his own.  

Which meant when the Russian beauty of the ice skating world woke up at 7 o' clock every morning, his soulmate was in school. It was the _perfect_  time for what he had planned. 

Victor Nikiforov wanted to remind his soulmate that they were _his_  and no one else's. He wanted the people around his soulmate to know it too. He wanted his soulmate to know that he was the only one who could pleasure him the way he needed to be pleased. He wanted his soulmate to know that he _owned_  him.  

So Victor used the weapon of most availability and promise of success. His own body. 

He gave light touches to his body everywhere, and rubbed his own nipples with sultry hands. He wanted his soulmate to know that _Victor_  was the one doing this to him, making both of them come undone with light tugs and roaming fingers.  

When Victor had reached his climax, he passed out on his bed, a grin of satisfaction clear on his face. 

_Take that you_ _unloyal_ _bastard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos, comment your fav quote, and check out my tumblr! (too-many-fandoms-girl.tumblr.com) I love talking to people and making new friends!! (Also I'm a sucker for fan art so if anyone really wants to get on my good side thats the way to do it) ANyway! Love you guys! ~Cryellow


	4. Rough Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is a terrible yet wonderful place. There are some people who go they're entire lives with only a few scrapes, a few bruises, maybe even a stitch or two. Then there are some people who have major accidents, and some who stay in hospitals full time. It doesn't sound too different from our world, however in this one your soulmate is your life source. Literally. If they get injured, so do you. It doesn't bother a lot of people, however for Yuri Katsuki, his soulmate seems to be pretty accident prone. Plus they're always getting bruised. Weird. (Soulmate AU!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE!!  
> I have a few notes that are important so please read!  
> With school starting up again, I hope to keep writing this story, but I might not be posting nearly as fast as I want to, so bear with me!  
> A few notes for this chapter: It starts with Victor, so please don't be confused! I also made another time skip (like I do every chapter) so Yuri is 22 and Victor is 26! Phichit, in this story, is a Solo and he's also 22! In this story Phichit and Yuri are the same age, mainly just because that's how I want to write this story!  
> This chapter is pretty wild, so strap yourselves in. Hehehe~

Victor had reached his limit. He had reached his peak. He undoubtedly was to the breaking point with his soulmate. This was the final straw. He didn't know how hard he could have been pushed until now and he finally knew at what point he went insane. Victor's soulmate had finally showed him that boundary.  

Victor Nikiforov officially went insane when he woke up one day, the lights low as the morning sun rose in the sky, the sound of busy Russia waking up outside the thick walls of his simple apartment, and he felt an extreme stinging sensation. Straight on his ass.  

It wasn't just the stinging sensation, oh no. It hurt like a thousand tiny needles, and his head ached like he had been drinking too much. Even his vision was a little blurry and his mind fuzzy.  

After so many times of doing it himself, Victor understood what his soulmate was doing. The bastard was getting drunk. No, scratch that. He _was_ drunk. Undoubtedly so. Victor's stomach ached and his head swam, his mind finding it hard to concentrate.  

Within a few minutes Victor tried to place himself, only to put more focus on the fact his ass was stinging. _What the fuck_ , Victor said to himself, grabbing his right asscheek in pain. _What the fuck is he-_  

 _Oh god no. Anything but that._   

Too late, Victor figured out what it was, and understood that he was powerless to stop it.  

"OW!" Victor said, grabbing his ass cheek with both hands now. The stinging sensation didn't go away. Instead, it felt like it was moving, and Victor knew why.  

His soulmate had decided, blasted drunk, that getting a tattoo on his ass was a wonderful idea. Victor wanted to tell him, very angrily, that he did _not_ agree with this, however, that was impossible. He was also particularly confused as to why a tattoo parlor even let him _in_. 

Victor grabbed for his phone, fingers numb and shaking, and texted Yakov to tell him he wasn't coming today. How could he _possibly_  come in, drunk off his ass, with the stinging sensation never ending? Victor just prayed to every deity he had ever heard of that his soulmate wasn't the type to get big tattoos.  

 _Vitya_ _what are you trying to tell me?_ _Are you drunk?_  Yakov's reply was bitter in Victor's head but he reread what he had said in an effort to understand. His blurry eyes tried to read, his head feeling _much_  too fuzzy as to be good.  

 _I_ _n not_ _coeijkming_ _it_ _rloidayughj_ Victor had said. _Oh no_ , his mind went, trying to tap out a better response. To his utter horror, that didn’t work either, and suddenly Victor was getting a call from his coach.  

"Vitya you are 25. A drunk text is not what I expect from a world class professional-" Yakov began, his voice harsh and loud in the silence of Victor's apartment. 

"I really- ooo- don't feel like talking right now," Victor said, his speech slurred and his ass cheek hurting immensely. "I think my soulmate is a little too drunk, and I can't do any-anything about it." 

"Vitya, if I ever meet your soulmate, I might just kill them," Yakov said angrily. "You have next season to be preparing for! The world is already astonished by the consecutive four Grand Prix Final wins and don't get me started on Championships- 

"Please don't be so loud," Victor muttered, his head throbbing and his eyes squinting around. He sat up a little and made a mental note that _he_  would probably be the one to kill his soulmate.  

This wasn't the first time Victor had been in such a state of anger from his soulmate, in all honesty. The only difference is that the _other_  time, he was also immensely turned on to figure out what his soulmate was doing.  

It was a few years ago, about a year since Victor had felt phantom lips on his and a knot in his chest. After his little- what was the word for it- payback, Victor had felt pretty proud of himself. That was until the tapping started. At first Victor thought his soulmate was just anxious. He'd feel little taps on his temple, on his cheek, even his lips on occasion. As much as he enjoyed the weird feeling the touch gave him, it distracted him from most things. Victor soon found out that he was so caught up in feeling the taps that he would flub a jump and space out. That had only been the beginning.  

When the tapping mostly stopped, Victor almost wept for joy. He thought he was free, but also a little sad. The touch comforted him sometimes. It made him remember the connection between the person he was supposed to love for the rest of his life. He should have known better. 

Within a few days of the tapping stopping, Victor started feeling awful burns on the underside of his knees. There were new marks from strange falls and God awful marks at the crooks of his arms.  

At one point, while he was skating, Victor brandished the marks like weapons, facing Yakov with a frown. "How can I practice with this?! It burns! The cream I have is for skating wounds, not-not- whatever this is!" 

It was then that a red headed girl with blue eyes had approached Yakov, hoping for him to answer a question most likely, but took notice of Victor's marks.  

"Oh goodness-" She said, bursting into fits of giggles and laughter. Yakov turned and Victor turned his bright eyes on her, a knot in his throat. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "You-oh my god-this is great." 

"Mila," Yakov chastised, his eyebrows going down at the teen. She looked around sixteen to Victor, and he was sure he had seen her in the womens skating branch a few times. 

"His soulmate pole dances!" Mila exclaimed, tears in her eyes as she was bent over. Victor felt his eyes grow wide and his mouth open in shock. 

"I beg your pardon," Victor said, his arms folding, successfully hiding the burns. He swallowed against a dry throat, his mind not letting himself think about the words too much. "My soulmate does _not_  do something like that." 

"Well obviously they do," Mila said, standing up and wiping her tears. "Only marks I've seen like that have been on my friend Rachel from her pole dancing lessons. It's an amazing skill, honestly." 

"Mila go practice your triple lutz and leave us alone," Yakov said, dismissing her. She shrugged and skated away, her earlier question seemingly forgotten.  

Indeed, it was after that day did Victor understand that his soulmate, of all things, _pole danced._  While that was horrifying to see the marks, and angered him pretty much, it also turned him on. _A lot_.  A lot more than the Russian would probably ever admit to anyone. Victor had been pretty sure he had felt a hard object against his own member once or twice, and had tried to cover up his excitement with plunging his nose into his phone.  

It had been one of those things that he had begrudgingly accepted from his soulmate. It seemed like a bizarre hobby, but Victor never held it against them. He wouldn't let this thing that they did frame the way that Victor thought about them, regardless of the fact that he _loved_  to think about his soulmate pole dancing in front of him.  

One of the things Victor had always been on the fence about had been what sex his soulmate was. For the most part he thought about his soulmate as _them_ , but over time he had associated this person as _he._ It wasn't like the professional world class skater gave a damn, more like the little things that happened helped him frame that sort of mind. Like one night when he had been making dinner for Makkachin when he felt himself get hard, with no warning. Or on the rare occasions when his hands were busy, and the itch between his legs was scratched with phantom fingers. While all these mannerisms very well could be somehow feminine, and by the paper cuts and the weird anxious habits could all point to a more female person, Victor was pretty sure he was leaning on the male side for his soulmate. He really didn't care, he would want to hug them (or hurt them) all the same, it just made Victor curious over the years.  

Especially now, when he was looking in the closest mirror, his pants down and his ass red as an apple, watching as a _smiley face_  was inked onto his right ass cheek. Victor tried his best not to burst into angry tears just watching as the final touches were being made onto his skin. If he wasn't so drunk, or angry, or overall extremely distraught to see an _emoticon_  on his asscheek, he probably would have been fascinated just to see himself inked up.  

Tattoo parlors were for Solos. Either his soulmate was drunk enough to think Victor didn't exist, or someone let him in.  

It was at this point did Victor Nikiforov realize that his soulmate must be _fucking wild_. Not only did they do pole dancing, but they skated (professionally, Victor was sure, since the hours they went to the rink was almost the same amount as he himself was practicing), they were a dumb and wild drunk, they went around kissing strangers, and _now_  they were getting a _smiley face_  on their _ass_. It was with a giant headache did Victor get back into bed, take a few pain pills he kept on the night stand, and fell back asleep, wondering how in the _hell_ he was ever going to calm someone like that into a loving relationship _._  Or even if they would want that.  

~~~!~~~ 

Yuri loved Detroit. He loved the busy streets and the busy people and the too-busy ice rink with twenty people in it every time he went there. He loved his classes, he loved the bright lights, and he loved the fact it was almost completely different from Hasetsu. He also, most admittedly, loved his best friend Phichit.  

Phichit was a party animal. He was wild, and he loved social media. You'd never see him ten feet away from his phone at any given point. Phichit was a Solo, and he had to be the most vibrant, joyous, completely content Solo Yuri had ever met. He was extraverted and kind, and Yuri was completely in awe of the Thai skater with the heart of gold.  

Yuri had known Phichit since Yuri had moved to Detroit, the boy having just moved from Thailand himself with the hope of a skating career in his sights. At first Yuri was reserved and quiet, keeping to himself and wanting nothing more than to be wholly unnoticed. Phichit, on the other hand, took this as a challenge. He tried his hardest to be Yuri's friend, and Yuri was forever grateful for his constant determination and never wavering resolve. Slowly, ever so slowly, Yuri came around. And _boy_  was he in for a trip.  

For about a whole year Yuri had been constantly tapping himself, wondering how in the _hell_  he was going to get back at his soulmate for such a disgraceful act. He hadn't really came up with anything, but he was determined to find something nonetheless. It was Phichit who had recommended a friend of his, who taught a class for, of all things, _pole dancing_. Yuri had very heartily said _no_ , but Phichit reasoned with him. 

"Look, it's an excellent way to keep fit! You won't need to spend hours jogging and losing weight if you practice it. Also, you haven't practiced dance in forever! It's just like ballet! Besides that, you want revenge! Your soulmate humiliated you!" Yuri would forever regret telling Phichit the story of his soulmate's fevered fingers, since every time Phichit thought about it he talked for about an hour, which ended up being more times than not. "If you learn to pole dance you have the upper hand in more ways than one. Pole dancing is hard to learn- it's going to give you metal burns and a couple extra bruises- seeing those injuries is going to drive them  _insane_. AND! When you actually go to meet them, you'll be not only a boss in the bedroom, but a total tease! They'll spend hours thinking about how you can pole dance, and haven't, and it'll eat them apart! What do you say?!" 

In the end, Yuri agreed. Phichit had a good claim, and the idea that he can torture his soulmate was the _perfect_  reasoning for learning such a talent. After a few weeks, Yuri learned that he was pretty good at it. His instructors were always giving him positive feedback and the fact he had practiced so much ballet before joining had helped a lot too.  

It had been about two years since then, and Yuri was twenty-one now. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he had just finished one of his first world class competitive figure skating seasons. The face of Victor Nikiforov flashed in his mind, his heart facing as he imagined standing on the ice with him- no possibly the _podium_  with him. Victor had just won his fourth consecutive Grand Prix Final of his career, his bedazzling grin shining as bright as the cameras could film. There were times when Victor would skate when Yuri got so into it he almost felt like it was him up there on the ice, skating his heart away. It was usually around this time when Yuri would chastise himself and think about his soulmate, and how selfish the Japanese man was being. Surely a soulmate wouldn't want someone so obsessed with a celebrity, but then again Yuri was in a constant state of reminding himself how awful his soulmate was and how horrible they kept the state of their body. More than once Yuri had felt the fuzziness of alcohol in his system and the warm feeling of arms on his shoulders. His soulmate was pretty popular, or maybe just a little too expressive. Either way, Yuri was always thinking about how he never seemed to get enough revenge on them for that day in class. It constantly weighed on his mind to think that his soulmate could do that again. _At any time_. 

Yuri was on his phone checking the latest updates in the skating world when Phichit poked him on the shoulder.  

"Hm?" He said, not looking up. 

"You're coming with me." Phichit said, grabbing his hand. Yuri looked up, surprised to see Phichit looking dressed to go out, one hand holding his phone and the other clasped around Yuri's palm.  

"Were are you going?" Yuri asked, pulling his hand back a little. 

" _We_  are going to a party, and there are people who are asking explicitly for _you_." Phichit replied, tugging Yuri's hand back. 

"I don't know Phichit. I don't really like parties." Yuri started, his brown eyes looking back at Phichit with frown on his lips. "Besides I'm not really dressed to go out-" 

"You look fine, and if you don't come with me, I'll leak those pictures of your room all over the internet." 

"You wouldn't," Yuri said in horror. He saw the glint in Phichit's eyes and knew different, though. " _Oh_ you would. How did you even get Mari's number?!" 

"Hacked into your phone a while back when you were sleeping. Fifteen photos of Victor Nikiforov in your room makes for good publicity, Yuri. You even have a _shrine_." 

"It is not a shrine!" Yuri protested, feeling himself being dragged forward off his bed, towards the door. "It's-It's....It's a shrine." 

Yuri sighed, defeated, and Phichit laughed victorious. "Come on. It's New Years. It'll be fun!" 

The party was too loud, too big, too packed, and too filled with alcohol. Yuri was tempted to leave the minute he even looked at the place. He hesitated as he walked with Phichit, but the Thai skater grabbed him firmly on the shoulders and pushed him forward. 

The only way Yuri even got through the party was after a few (not a few) beers and a shot (or two) of what looked like Tequila at the time. Overall, Yuri was feeling pretty good, not a care in the world, a bright smile on his face and his hair sweaty on his forehead as he found a banister pole and put his skills to the test.  

Yuri couldn't really hear very well as he danced, but he heard a few people watching him, contemplating his relationship status. "No way is this guy single." 

"He is way too wild to be someone's soulmate, though." Someone said. 

"If he does, they must be one lucky person." Another voice replied, as Yuri swung around with ease.  

Yuri wanted to say that he hated his soulmate, and that every time he was reminded of the bastard he wanted to punch something, but in his drunken haze the only thing that came from his flirty lips were, "Soulmates are stupid." 

It was then, Yuri would later realize, the he should have stopped dancing and probably went home for his own sanity. He didn't, though, and continued dancing like the world wasn't spinning a little too fast.  

"Aw man," a girl said, a beer in her hand, "He's got one of those bodies that are _perfect_  for inking. He's one of those people that would _rock_  a tattoo." 

"Hey Yuri!" Phichit said, obviously drunk too. He may have been drinking a little _more_ then Yuri, it seemed, and Yuri had seen him working through the crowd, taking pictures with everyone he saw. "You should get a tattoo, man! That would be sick! I've never taken pictures of a tattoo!" 

And Yuri, who on every other day wouldn't barely _skate_  in front of people except for competition, replied simply, "Sure." 

Within ten minutes there was a small group of rowdy onlookers as Yuri decided what to get. "If you get it on your ass, I'll buy it." Phichit said, a grin wide on his face. 

"Deal," Yuri replied, and the next thing he would remember, he was walking over to a seat, pulling his pants down. 

When Yuri would sober up later he'd remember the little details, like the tattoo artist looking at the group with an eyebrow raised. "One of you guys have a Solo ID? I only need to see one. You guys all look like the type." 

And he didn't see Phichit take out whatever a "Solo ID" was, since he had never heard of such a thing, but he remembered the tattoo artist grinning at him and asking him what he wanted to be on his ass. In his drunken state he would see Phichit's phone and immediately think, 

"A smiley face. Like the emoji!" 

And _thank God_ for itbeing a late night in Detroit, because Yuri Katsuki would never have been able to get a tattoo at all, if he hadn't been wasted.  

The next morning he woke up, and didn't remember a thing, and ask Phichit if he remembered. Phichit  pulled out his phone and the photos told the story for him. How Yuri had poled danced in front of everyone, how he got so _completely trashed_  that he got a tattoo on his ass, how he went in the middle of the night on New Years to a Solo tattoo parlor, and how he probably ruined his soulmate's entire day.  

"What the," Yuri whispered  in his panic, and pulled down his pants, and rubbed his ass, and Phichit was in tears from laughing so hard, his head aching. "How did they even let me in there? That place is only for Solos!" 

"Well it was a Solo party," Phichit explained, rubbing his neck. "There aren't many of us in Detroit, but I didn't want to go alone..." 

"It's official. My soulmate probably hates me." Yuri muttered, poking the new mark with a wince. 

"Probably," Phichit agreed, "I mean I would." 

"Thanks, Phichit. A real confidence booster." 

"Always here to help." 

"Wait, so what's a Solo ID?" Yuri had asked, still poking the new tattoo.

"When Solo's turn 18, and we're sure that we don't have a soulmate bond, we have the ability to get Solo ID's. They're like a driver's license for unbonded people. It lets us get into Solo tattoo parlors and get piercings and stuff. Like you said, tattoo parlors are mainly only for Solos-"

"Because of the whole never-met-your-soulmate-and-don't-want-to-hurt-them deal. Yeah. I guess I must have been wild enough for people to think I'm a Solo, huh?"

"Well it didn't help that you said 'Soulmates are stupid'. I mean...some pretty heavy Solo vibes there, Yuri. Besides, I heard that if you get a tattoo, it appears on your soulmate's skin, too." Phichit said, rubbing his head and offering his roommate a few aspirin. 

Yuri would sigh, take the pills, and go back to bed with his heart in his throat. He knew for sure his soulmate was planning payback, and he begged the heavens silently that he was wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one! I know that it's getting complicated, since all we mainly hear from Yuri is how much he hates his soulmate, but keep in mind that this is a wild time for Yuri! He has a lot of conflicting emotions and he's pretty much just started his skating career! Next chapter we'll hear all the good things he thinks about his soulmate, hear about his GPF loss, and!!! THEY MEET!! It's getting pretty exciting, for sure! Be sure to leave kudos, leave a comment with your favorite quote, and check out my blog! (too-many-fandoms-girl.tumblr.com) Bye for now!! <3 ~Cryellow


	5. Victor's Rough Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is a terrible yet wonderful place. There are some people who go they're entire lives with only a few scrapes, a few bruises, maybe even a stitch or two. Then there are some people who have major accidents, and some who stay in hospitals full time. It doesn't sound too different from our world, however in this one your soulmate is your life source. Literally. If they get injured, so do you. It doesn't bother a lot of people, however for Yuri Katsuki, his soulmate seems to be pretty accident prone. Plus they're always getting bruised. Weird. (Soulmate AU!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in FOREVER! I have been really busy with school and with writing other fiction, it's been a little hard to keep up.  
> I just want to say thank you to FanGril for your amazing help with the little things and crying as I blackmail you with it.  
> I ALSO!! WANT TO THANK!! MY AMAZING NEW GIRLFRIEND!! WHO IS FANTASTIC!! AND SUPPORTIVE!! <3  
> This chapter is during Last year's Grand Prix Final, Victor is newly 27 and Yuri is now 23. I think it's really good, however be warned. This one is pretty long, and unfortunately it's only Victor's POV until I can write Yuri's. So technically it's Chapter 5 pt 1, so stay tuned. I hope you like it!!

Victor could feel it. It was a feeling deep in his soul, shaking his bones and leaving a dull ache inside him. The lights, the brightness, the chill of the ice, it all dulled in comparison. When Victor Nikiforov stood out on that ice to perform his short program for the Grand Prix Final, he felt an unspeakable force, making him feel...there were no words for it but... _ whole _ . He felt as if he had gone his entire life without eyes and suddenly he was granted sight. And the world was  _ beautiful _ . Victor felt his own body moving lighter and easier, like he had been pushing against himself his whole life. He skated his short program better than he had ever done it in practice. Tears welled in his eyes as he performed, the warmth inside him never ceasing. 

Someone, somewhere was his soulmate. This had always been true. His soulmate was in the same room-the same  _ rink _ .That was the most important part. That's why he felt this full, warm, and whole feeling. Perhaps they were watching him now, their soul feeling as full as his? After twenty seven years he was  _ finally  _  close to them, just in time for him to skate in front of who knows how many people.

Victor wanted to stop the skate from the beginning and go search, but deduced it would look better if he skated  _ for _ his soulmate. He wants to look good for his soulmate, after all, even if they were a pain in the ass (literally). 

Victor was mad at first (irate more like), looking at his new and unwanted tattoo in the mirror with disdain, but had since then came to the conclusion that his soulmate was worth every fight. They were worth all the pain. 

In the year that had passed, Victor had felt more lingering arm kisses, more slight hesitant touches, more tears splayed on his skin then he ever thought possible. It seemed, to him at least, that his soulmate was asking for forgiveness, and also going through a rough patch. Whoever they were, their life was pretty awful at the moment, and Victor couldn’t help but feel hollow thinking about it. 

Well, he would feel that way if he wasn’t so close to them now. They were  _ here _ and the warmth inside Victor stayed with him throughout his program. 

When he was finished, Victor almost sprinted to the kiss and cry.

“Yakov!” Victor shouted with glee.

“Yes, Vitya, you did good. Yes I think you broke your record. You looked a little sloppy on that opening lutz, but go and sit down.” Yakov said dismissively, his hand waving in the air with impatience. 

“No!” Victor protested, shoving his skate guards violently on his feet. “You don’t get it! They’re here they-” 

But Victor realized that the feeling had gone while he was distracted. It had disappeared like a will-o-the-wisp, bright at first but then leaving him in total darkness, alone and searching for the right way.

“No,” Victor whispered, his silver eyebrows going down. He pinched his arm in response to his anger, hoped his soulmate understood, and left before he could see his short program score. 

“Vitya!” Yakov cried, reaching a hand out, but Victor was already on the move. He had tried  _ too damn hard _ to lose them that quickly. 

Victor spent almost twenty minutes searching but came up empty handed and hollow hearted. Frustrated and angry, he went back to a disgruntled Yakov who began lecturing him on the spot. Victor was about to open his mouth and explain when he felt it again. The warmth. The  _ wholeness. _

This time his cheeks got heated ever so slightly and he held himself a little, his eyes searching around the rink. 

_ You’re here _ , Victor said to himself in disbelief.  _ You’re here and you’re real. _

Victor, in his complete determination to find his soulmate,  ignored the next skater that went up and started searching again, using the warmth like a beacon. Perhaps they couldn’t feel it as strongly as he could? Victor remembered hearing something similar, that the older you are the more you can feel it. The sharper your connection. So maybe they were younger? What would they look like? Would they be tall? Short? Would they have a kind heart or have the cutest blush? Would they know how many times he had skated with them on his mind, winning medal after medal? Would his soulmate know how utterly frustrating they were? 

Victor Nikiforov kept looking, moving to even search back stage in his panic. 

“Victor!” Christophe Giacometti cried with a grin. His bright green eyes sparkled at Victor, wiping his brow after just finishing his own short program. “Beat your own record again I see. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up to you in no time-”

“You’re great at coming from behind. Yes, I’ve heard it before, Chris. I’m actually looking for someone.” Victor said, his voice clipped. He winced as he heard how desperate he sounded. This wasn’t the Victor Nikiforov in front of the public at all. This was not the Victor Nikiforov who liked to pretend like he’s had lover after lover or even the Victor that winked to the crowds. This was the Victor Nikiforov that only his close friends knew. The one that had stayed abstinent and silent, hoping against hope that his soulmate didn’t hate him after all the years, even though everyone told him that  _ he _ should be the one angry and bitter. 

Victor winced as he felt his soulmate hurt themselves somehow. Victor thought of the possibilities with a fevered brain, piecing the puzzle together slowly. Perhaps they went to the bathroom and they had fallen, or maybe they went to get a better view and slipped on the stairs. Whatever the case, Victor was a little mad they were injuring themselves while he was busy searching for them.  

“Who are you looking for?” Chris said seriously, knowing that tone of voice as Victor’s silent panic button. He was full on frantic right now, and Chris stood in front of him with a calm expression. “Do I know them?”

“ _ I _ don’t even know them,” Victor murmured sadly, rubbing the back of his neck. “My soulmate-they’re here. I can feel them but-”

“But you can’t find them? Victor, relax. I know this is a big moment for you, but you’ll meet them in time.” Chris commented, tilting his head a little. 

Victor gave a huff but nodded his head and started his walk back to the rink. He felt the sensation again, almost stronger for a moment, but by the time he raised his head Victor felt it diminish. He walked back next to Yakov, his heart in his throat, soul on his sleeve. He tapped his feet nervously and moved his legs, antsy the rest of the day, but nothing came out of it. 

That night he stayed up late with bated breath, begging and praying to whatever deity that would listen that he might talk to his soulmate, meet them,  _ anything _ . They were so close, and the possibility to end up being a soulmate that is never properly paired hung over Victor like a dark cloud. He couldn’t think of it, he  _ wouldn’t _ . He wouldn’t become one of the lost souls who wander aimlessly, the bond connecting the two individuals all but faded. He wouldn’t let that happen to  _ him _ . They would meet before they parted, Victor was sure of it. 

Absentmindedly the Russian was stroking his left forearm, drawing a little heart with no real thought to his own movements. He suddenly stopped as he felt something else on his forearm. It was another heart, drawn by his soulmate no doubt, right below the one he had made. Victor, with a sad smile, kissed the space between the two hearts and felt a hesitant kiss in return. These types of moments had become increasingly more common in the last year or so, and Victor guessed it had to do with his soulmate’s ever depressing mood. Surely they wouldn’t respond if they didn’t want him back, right?

_ Stop this madness _ , Victor said to himself chastising.  _ You’re twenty seven! You have things to do tomorrow and besides, you want to look good when you meet them. When you meet your soulmate. _

Victor hugged himself close, imagining briefly for a moment that it was not his own arms but someone else’s and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

When Victor Nikiforov woke up, he knew it was going to be a rough day from the start. There was an angry knock on his door, the pounding resounding through his whole room. 

“Alright, alright,” the Russian muttered, getting up. He walked to the door and opened it wide, his drooping eyes looking into the face of a yelling Yakov.

“Vitya you have ten minutes and then we are out of here,” Yakov spoke in Russian, his anger and his haste forcing him back to his mother tongue. Victor looked around the hallway for a moment, wondering what on Earth was going on. If Victor Nikiforov had been paying attention or maybe a little more awake, he would have felt  _ it _ again. The wholeness. Unfortunately, he  _ was _ tired and groggy, his blue eyes sweeping the hallway slowly. They came to rest on a pair of brown eyes hidden behind blue glasses from someone a few doors down. Another skater perhaps? Victor wasn’t sure, but he knew the other man was staring. Victor gave his trademark grin at the stranger, only for them to blush scarlet, his chocolate eyes cast downwards. Victor followed his eyes downward too, curiosity getting the better of him only to find that the Russian King of the Rink wasn’t wearing pants. Despite the fact he should probably have more decency than that, Victor looked past Yakov towards the stranger again, giving them a wink. The stranger hesitated for a moment, his cheeks an adorable red, and then moved down the hall towards the elevators. 

Victor kept his ocean blue eyes on the stranger, watching them retreat down the hall, a small smile on his lips. 

_ Maybe my soulmate will look that cute with a blush?  _ Victor thought. Victor wanted to entertain the idea that he had just met his soulmate, however the man in the hallway looked a little old to have never met his soulmate. Usually the process is within your teen years, but sadly Victor seemed to be the exception.  _ Shame. They were kinda cute. _

“ _ Vitya _ ,” Yakov said, waving his meaty hand in front of the gold winning skater. “Vitya. Pants. Out. Ten Minutes.  _ Or else _ .” 

Victor turned his attention back on his coach and grinned, watching the older man retreat down the hall too. Victor walked back into his hotel room and got dressed, running a hand through his hair as he faced the mirror. 

_ Today _ , he thought with a smile.  _ Today I will meet my soulmate while showing them a gold medal that I won for them. Today I will meet them and ask their favorite color, and asked why in the world they would get an emoji tattoo of all things. Today I’ll be able to dote on them and ask for forgiveness from all the accidents and the skating injuries and that one time I climbed a tree and slipped at the top. Tonight I’ll be able to hold them in my arms, and never let them go. Tonight I can thank them for surviving, for living in such a harsh world and not taking my life along with theirs. Tonight I will meet my soulmate. _

The very notion of it all made Victor feel like a twelve year-old girl, and he left his hotel room with a pep in his step. 

It all was a blur for Victor. He was used to it by now and he had been for several years. Go in, skate, get your score, win. It was as simple as that. It was all rather black and white, a dull, pale thing he called his career. He wished he could say that it was exactly the same this time around, and that the repeated motif of “skating for my soulmate” was a bit worn out, especially for him. He wished he could say that he put no effort into his free skate and that he practically slept the entire day. He wished he could say that, but he would be lying.

Victor Nikiforov spent the day stretching his body and getting ready to skate like his life depended on it, like his soulmate would only look at him if he worked, hard, today,  _ now. _ Ever since the presence that he had felt, he had been almost obsessive in trying to figure out what triggered it. Up until now his soulmate lived hours away, the different time zones evident from long ago. Apparently they came to visit for the Grand Prix Final, being such a fan they probably couldn’t hold themselves back. 

When it was time for his own free skate, Victor squared his shoulders from back stage and walked forward confidently. When he got on the ice, he expected, in all honesty, the full feeling again. What he got instead was nothing. Victor felt his pulse jump under his magenta costume, his blue eyes sweeping the crowd. Surely they were here, watching him? Or….what? What was the other option? Had they left?

For one heartbroken moment, Victor Nikiforov felt like he was drowning in the middle of the ice, and the music hadn’t even started. His soulmate  _ had _ to be here. They  _ had _ to be. After making him wait in agony for so long, and showing up yesterday, they weren’t here today? The bastard wouldn’t even show?

When the music started, Stay Close to Me loudly running through the speakers, he originally drowned it out. His face went slack and he moved to the music only through muscle memory, his body moving almost against his own will. After a few seconds Victor started  _ listening _ to the song and what it meant. 

_ Sento una voce che piange lontano Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?  _ **_I hear a voice crying far away. Have you been abandoned as well?_ **

Victor thought about how it felt to be  _ whole _ , how he felt the presence of his soulmate and knew they were close. He had felt warm and cozy, like everything was right. His soulmate, abandoning him for an unknown reason, the feeling of phantom fingers moving on his skin, a silent plea.

_ Orsù finisca presto questo calice di vino e inizio a prepararmi Adesso fa’ silenzio. _ **_Come now, let’s empty this glass of wine soon. I’ll start getting ready. Now be silent._ **

Victor, his costume on and his casual smile for the cameras hours before. The prepping and the stretching all for this moment, while his soulmate wasn’t here. They were  _ gone _ .

_ Con una spada vorrei tagliare quelle gole che cantano d'amore. Vorrei serrare nel gelo le mani che scrivono quei versi d'ardente passione.  _ **_With a sword I wish I could cut those throats singing about love. I wish I could seal in the cold the hands that portray those verses of burning passion._ **

For years Victor had watched while his friends found their soulmates. He had watched as his classmates and his acquaintances had gone weeks without injuries, while he remained constantly bruised. He had spent so many skating programs speaking of love, himself. Word after word, soulmate after soulmate. He sat idly by while his career took flight and he put his determination into every twirl, every spin, every twist, every movement his body made on the ice. Now, while he was here, and his soulmate was so close he could almost  _ taste _ the longing, they were nowhere near him. They weren’t watching. They were  _ gone _ .

_ Questa storia che senso non ha. Svanirà questa notte assieme alle stelle. Se potessi vederti dalla speranza nascerà l’eternita. _ **_This story that makes no sense. Will vanish tonight along with the stars. If I could see you from hope eternity will be born._ **

All the longing Victor felt right now, all the anger and the sorrow of waiting so long and still being so far away. Their situation was an impossible one, one that most have never heard of. This story of theirs could be written in the sky and yet the destruction of each other is solemn a good thought.  _ Just one time _ , Victor begged to the heavens.  _ To see them one time _ .

_ Stammi vicino, non te ne andare. Ho paura di perderti.  _ **_Stay close to me, don’t go. I’m afraid of losing you._ **

For all his anger, and all his sorrow, he still  _ wanted _ his soulmate. He  _ wanted  _  to be whole, like every person does. He wanted to be near them, and hold them close, and whisper sweet nothings in their ear while they drifted to sleep under the starry sky and a bright shining moon. Victor Nikiforov was a hopeless romantic, and he couldn’t and wouldn’t let yesterday be the only chance he got to be near them. It was an impossibility. 

_ Le tue mani, le tue gambe,le mie mani, le mie gambe, e i battiti del cuore si fondono tra loro.  _ **_Your hands, your legs, My hands, my legs, The heartbeats Are fusing together._ **

They were his soulmate, and they were  _ bound _ to him. They shared a bond stronger than any rope and tougher than any steel. They were one of the same person. They were split at birth, and now they are becoming one again. The story Victor wanted to tell was of his love, and of his anger, and of his soulmate.

_ Partiamo insieme. Ora sono pronto. _ **_Let’s leave together. Now I’m ready._ **

As the song finished up, and his skates came to a stop, Victor was huffing out breathes through held back tears. It was one of the most emotional performances he had ever given, and in all honesty he didn’t think he could ever give a better one. As he skated his way to the kiss and cry, he felt oddly hollow. It drained him just to perform such a piece. To Victor’s shock, as he sat down on the bench, Yakov didn’t start lecturing him at all. He had been oddly silent, even pensive as he had looked at Victor coming in.

“You felt them,” Yakov said, not looking at him. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

“They were here yesterday,” Victor replied, his voice sounding smaller than he intended. It was weak in his own ears, and he tried to sound a little more solid. “I’m not sure if they were there today, but I definitely felt them while I was doing my short program. That’s why I was searching all of yesterday.”

Victor lowered his head a little for a moment, but the minute his score went up, he put on his mask. The mask of Victor Nikiforov, the smiling, charming, winner of the skating world. He waved at the cameras and shined his bright teeth to the crowd.

_ Maybe, just maybe _ , he had told himself a hundred times.  _ If I can fake a smile it will be real. _

It never worked.

As Victor stood up on the podium he searched the crowd, for what he didn’t know, but he searched nonetheless. Hundreds of eyes, cheers, and claps surrounded him and not for the first time did Victor think,  _ it’s all too much _ . It was useless, and his heart gave a stutter as he made the realization he might  _ never _ see them. At least he won another medal. Perhaps his soulmate could take pleasure in the fact he was a winner. If they even saw him.

It took quite a bit before Victor could proudly say he had done his best and succeeded with it. The Russian grabbed his skating gear and walked next to Yuri Plisetsky, Victor’s rinkmate and winner of the Junior Grand Prix, and thought about the events. Well, somewhat succeeded. It was all rather frustrating, but Victor tried to distract himself with talking to the Junior Finalist.

“Yuri, you need to work on that step sequence,” Victor began, his icy blue eyes looking unfocused in front of him. But the Russian Tiger didn’t want to hear it.

“I won anyway, so who really cares?”

Victor shook his head, Yuri’s attitude a very poor one. He walked over to where a disgruntled Yakov (who had just heard his pupil) stood, the three of them ready to leave the rink. Yakov started talking to Yuri, his outlook on his career obviously unappealing to the coach. Victor smiled unfazed for a moment before it happened. He felt  _ it _ again. He wanted to shout for joy or scream he wasn’t sure which. He turned his silver head a little, anxious to see if maybe,  _ just maybe _ , he might see his soulmate. 

What he got instead was a pair of earthy brown eyes behind blue spectacles and a slightly open mouth. It was the cute blushing boy from this morning. Perhaps they were a fan of him? It would explain the staring, at the least.They did that an awful lot.

“Care for a photo?” Victor offered, his signature smile going on his lips despite how truly unfocused he was. The stranger said nothing but turned and left, the man accompanying blushing boy doing damage control. 

“I’m so sorry, Victor,” the man said. He had a high ponytail of brown hair and a sharp chin, which he jutted out a little as he talked, “he gets really bad anxiety and-”

“No, that’s alright,” said Victor puzzled. “If he does change his mind, tell him to come find me.”

“We’ll see you tonight, then,” the other man said, turning to go, relief evident in his tense shoulders. 

“Is he a skater?” Victor asked, his curiosity getting the better of him before the man could leave..

“Yes,” the man replied, stopping with a smile. It must have been obvious that Victor didn’t really pay close attention to his competition. Other than Chris, he really didn’t know a lot of skaters personally. 

“He represented Japan today. I’m his coach.” 

Victor nodded his head absently, his mind a tornado of new thoughts as the man walked away, after his pupil.

And if Victor Nikiforov was too distracted to realize the deep feeling was gone, and that it had left with the cute boy with oversized blue glasses, who could blame him? He had too much on his mind already. 

Getting ready for the banquet was less exciting than usual. It already was a bore, with the fancy outfits and the small talk. Compared to skating, the banquet was like a funeral.  Victor was sure his soulmate had been in the stands watching him. He put on his suit, rolling his cuffs up with his head in the clouds. Perhaps the connection was only tied to their emotions? Victor really didn’t have anyone to ask, so he didn’t. 

Victor was only sure of a few things. He knew his soulmate had to have been in the stands, since everyone in this year’s Grand Prix Final (well, Victor mused, everyone but him) had taken at least one fall. If his soulmate was a skater with him than he would have felt it, and besides, no one in the competition really  _ fit _ . They were all too obnoxious, determined, or just... _ not _ . 

_ Well _ , Victor made a mental note, _ apparently blush boy was in it too, but…. _

Victor was pretty sure that the boy had a soulmate, and if he did, he had probably already met them. It didn’t boost the Russian’s confidence to think this way, but the more he thought about it the more it ate at him. The last possible chance to see his soulmate was at the Gala. While he couldn’t wait for the event, Victor knew it was important that the gold medal winner of the Grand Prix Final be seen at the banquet. He would have never even gone if he hadn’t been forced. 

For a good portion of the night, Victor mostly kept behind his mask. It was default and easy;smile for the people, make them laugh, be your charming self. It was the simplest thing in the world, and yet today it was especially difficult. He had walked into the banquet and  _ known _ . Of the hundred people in the room, one was his soulmate. The feeling was stronger than it was when he was on the ice, almost like a fireplace in his chest- warm and welcoming. 

It was just so  _ hard _ , because Victor didn’t know who it was or if he would be making a fool of himself to even try to find out.He put it off his mind, reminding himself that it would happen in it’s own time, if it was meant to be. He had waited this long, right? 

Every so often Victor caught sight of a hunched figure with brown eyes and blue glasses, the Japanese skater looking worse for wear and obviously not enjoying himself. The man with the long hair (the Asian’s coach, as Victor dimly remembered) patted the skater on the back and urged him to have a fun time. After the events earlier, Victor couldn’t help but wonder how bad the other skater must have done to look so horrible. He must have failed  _ miserably _ , since Victor didn’t even think he had seen such an epic sulk on the  _ Ice Tiger’s _ face. Victor couldn’t help his own eyes when he kept an eye on the anxiety-ridden  man the rest of the evening. 

By his sixteenth drink, it wasn’t wrong to say the cute, blushing stranger was drunk, and Victor felt some sympathy, since even after only having about three drinks, he seemed to be rather tipsy himself. 

Later, Victor would put a hand to his head and curse himself. If he was any good at puzzles, remembering things, or even  _ common sense _ , the answer he seeked was  _ more _ than clear in front of him. As it was, he was terrible at puzzles, his latest memory only spanned yesterday’s lunch (a nice bean soup with some fancy bread he found at a food stand) and his common sense, well, left something to be desired. 

Victor watched as the chocolate eyed skater walked up to Yuri with a swaying gait, and challenged him to a dance battle. A  _ dance battle _ .  _ At a figure skating  _ **_banquet_ ** . Victor, he was the first to admit, just wanted to see what would happen. 

To his surprise, the ever competitive Junior gold medalist started dancing, never one to be beat regardless of his chances or the fact the man challenging him was  _ wasted _ . 

Victor, as it turned out, was drawn to it all, like a moth to a flame. Like mosquitos to water. Like Icarus and the sun. Ever so slowly he found himself joining in, and pretty soon he was dancing himself. It was joyous and  _ fun _ . 

Pretty soon it was him and the stranger, moving, their feet excellently placed and their bodies flowing like they were made to dance this way. When the stranger moved, Victor moved, throwing his head back or piercing the stranger with his icy blue eyes in an effort to place him. The stranger  _ grinned  _ down at him, his face too relaxed to be that of someone totally trashed. Victor Nikiforov didn’t think he had ever seen anything more beautiful. 

The music changed after a moment, and suddenly Victor realized that there was a pole in the middle of the banquet. A  _ stripper  _ pole. With a half-naked Chris and a Japanese skater rapidly taking his clothes off, running right next to it and leaving Victor on the dance floor. The Asian put his (horribly ugly) tie on his head, determination in his gait, and fixed the Swiss man with a fierce look.

“What  _ this _ ,” the party animal replied, taking two hands and swinging his body expertly around the pole. Victor felt his heart stop for a moment just watching his body flow like water. Victor would have liked to say that he knew every move- that he knew the positions and knew the names of everything about this drunk man’s performance. The truth is, he didn’t have a clue. He was too busy watching as the man entertained a room full of horribly bored skaters. 

There was a feeling in his chest Victor couldn’t quite pinpoint. It made him a little breathless just looking at the show before him. Lust? That couldn’t be it… Yes it turned him on, the sweaty body arching and bending elegantly, but…

Victor couldn’t really pinpoint it. He couldn’t label it if he tried. 

After Chris joined, and the two had their fill, the Japanese got down and with shaky fingers put his shirt back on, missing a hole or two and making his shirt disheveled. He then proceeded to walk straight up to Viktor, slump over onto him, and start dry-humping him. 

The entire thing was ridiculous. Victor had a  _ soulmate _ , and if anything the man in front of him looked like a Solo. Wild, careless, like his life was in his own hands, like he could jump off a building and not feel bad about it. But for some reason, Victor didn’t care. 

In fact, Victor was on the brink of getting his ultimate payback on his soulmate. Years of torture, kissing another person, random injuries, all of it. They had even left during his Free skate. Perhaps sleeping with this cute brown-eyed Solo would finally get his soulmate’s attention? Perhaps it would be the only thing to finally convince them that he’s tired? It wasn’t very hard for Victor to convince himself this was the right choice. The man below him was speaking a mix of rapid-fire Japanese and slurred English, his chubby cheeks a flush of red and his head a little sweaty. The man didn’t even have his pants on. 

“Be my coach, Victor!” 

Just those few words made Victor go a little weak at the knees and his breath pulled from his lungs. Be someone’s coach? Could he even do it? Victor wasn’t sure but  _ damn _ he’d love to try. 

The fun was interrupted by the Asian’s coach, grabbing him firmly on the shoulders and extracting him from Victor’s body.

“I am so sorry, Victor,” the coach said, trying to steady his pupil. “He usually knows how to compose himself but today seems like the exception. I’m going to take him to his room now. Any longer here and I’m not sure  _ what _ will happen, but it probably won’t be for the best.”

Victor gave no comment because he couldn’t. He only watched with longing as the cute red-faced man was extracted from the room. The Japanese man turned around in his coach’s hold for a minute, looking directly at Victor. He gave a wink and grinned like a loon, his feet stumbling. Victor felt his cheeks get warm and his heart stutter for a minute.  _ How can someone be so cute while being such an utter mess? _

Just before the man was out of sight, he blew Victor a kiss. Victor caught it. 

That night it was rather hard to sleep. He wanted to go find that man again, maybe even to see him properly sober. Victor Nikiforov found it hard to sleep that night, his body never able to find the right position for rest and his mind too overworked to sleep properly. For the first time in a long time, Victor wasn’t so focused on his soulmate, or their bond. He was focused on a  _ person _ , and Victor found he rather liked the change, even if the other person was a Solo. 

When the Gala came around the next day, Victor was expecting to see the blushing man again. He was hoping to see the man apologize with a red face, or maybe even woo Victor out of his own pants. 

He wasn’t expecting to wake up and find the Asian and his coach gone. 

When Victor asked about it, confused, Yakov told him why. 

“The Gala is only really required by those on the podium,” he said with a dismissive wave. “They probably left back to their rink.”

It was only then did a heart-broken Victor Nikiforov realize, _hey wait._ _I don’t even know his name_. 

Life got a little more complicated for Victor that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to torture city :) I used the lyrics to Stay Close to Me in here, soooo. Yeah. I love that song TBH. Thank you for all your support and share with your friends!! I always need validation in order to keep motivated, so please do!! Be sure to leave kudos, leave a comment with your favorite quote, and check out my blog! (too-many-fandoms-girl.tumblr.com) Bye for now!! <3 ~Cryellow


	6. Can't Help It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where do I begin?! Oh I know.  
> Firstly, you guys are AMAZING. You guys give me so much love, and I am honestly too spoiled by it! (Please don't stop though, ok. I live for it)  
> Secondly, I am so so so so so so sorry. I have been in a really rough patch in my life right now, and I've been super busy on top of it. I haven't had the proper time to update this story or any of my other ones. I know it makes you sad, but remember it also makes ME sad. I haven't had any time at all, and when I do I spend most of it unmotivated or uninspired like I used to be. I... I don't know quite how to describe what's been happening besides the obvious. My life is shitty, and unfortunately my work (and consequentially you guys) are getting the ass end of that.   
> Thirdly, I am sorry that this chapter is kind of short compared to the others. Usually I try to keep them about 5000 words, and this one isn't nearly that long. For all the wait, I'm sorry that this is all I have to show for it.   
> Fourthly, I want to leave actual notes about the chapter. I.E. Yuri here...well I kind of projected myself onto him and I know that's bad writing but I couldn't help it. Yuri also is a different narrator. I know that it's "just a fanfic" or whatever, but I love to use literature devices and techniques that I've especially learned about specifically. Unreliable narrators is one of those things. Yuri in this chapter focuses on what's important to HIM, even if that means missing out on a lot of detail. (It's not me being lazy, I swear).   
> Lastly, I hope you enjoy it, even if it IS really short for my standards. ~Cryellow

Yuri couldn’t help it. 

He couldn’t help the crying or the dread, not even his anxiety . 

Yuri couldn’t help it. Maybe that’s what scared him the most.

“Something’s off with you,” Phichit would say, a worried tilt in his direction. “Something’s off.”

Yuri would shrug, he would let it be, he would ignore it as best he could-

But Yuri couldn’t help it.

With each pressing moment and each failed movement or a flubbed jump, he felt himself feeling worse and worse, even as he went into the tournaments fine and came out victorious. 

He found that he just couldn’t help it. So when his mother called and told him that Vicchan was dead, the words harsh and stabbing like a knife wound, Yuri was still for a moment. He remained blissfully ignorant, hung in limbo as his mind processed the words.

His oldest confidant had passed. His closest friend was gone. Dead. 

Yuri couldn’t help breaking down that day, and binge eating his sorrow away, or even when he got so caught up in his own misery that he utterly failed himself in the short program. He ignored it, and finished, and fell, because that’s what Yuri did best. Fall. 

He couldn’t help it. It couldn’t be helped.

He couldn’t help  _ ignoring _ the feeling inside him that made him  _ feel  _ when he stepped out on the sidelines to watch his idol skate gracefully by, because Yuri didn’t want to feel. He wanted to do anything else  _ but _ feel.

“You’ll kick ass in the free skate,” Celestino told him with a pat on the back and a weak but sincere smile. He knew Yuri couldn’t do this. He knew he just  _ couldn’t help it _ . 

“Yeah,” Yuri said numbly, walking away as Victor Nikiforov made his way to the kiss and cry. 

He couldn’t help it when he ignored the sharp pinch that came on his arm when he left the rink to wander. He walked around with no real purpose, his feet finding storage closets and hallways no one would have even dreamed to search for.

With a sigh he went back, because that’s what he did. He couldn’t worry Celestino. Too much was riding on the Japanese man to completely fail now. To Yuri’s surprise, it seemed he had been gone almost twenty minutes. He took a moment and saw Victor’s short program score, a whopping 105.35 points. In all honesty, Yuri couldn’t say he disagreed with the scoring. It more than fit the short program he had been demonstrated. Yuri was more in distress about how  _ his _ skate turned out, right in front of his idol. Of all the times to screw up, the Grand Prix Finals wasn’t supposed to be the place. He walked away from the chilly rink and wandered again. 

He lost his own head a little, it seemed, and he found himself outside, the chilly air slicing his face up. The taste of a cool night bit his tongue and the sound of busy people buscled everywhere. 

_ Idiot, _ Yuri said to himself.  _ To think you could share the ice with him? Why even try? _

Yuri couldn’t help but think this way.

In his haste to keep moving, to keep his body doing  _ anything _ , he tripped and fell on the hard concrete, blanketing his side with a new set of bruises. 

_ Great _ , he thought,  _ those will look great with my other ones. I can’t even walk properly.  _

He got up and tucked away his injured pride and walked inside, trying to find Celestino so they could at least go back to the hotel together. Maybe if he laid down for the night it would make him feel better. Maybe. 

Yuri couldn’t help but hope. 

Unfortunately that didn’t happen often. More and more he found he felt worse, since it was hard to sleep when you felt like a slab of useless cement and your breath was weak in your own lungs. With every increasing minute he found himself deeper into his own head, and it was such a dark place Yuri was surprised he went near it at all. 

But Yuri couldn’t help it, and some deep part of him didn’t blame himself for it. Some deep place, far away from where he was now. Away from the chilly pale hotel bed he was laying in and the distinct feeling he had destroyed everything he ever wanted. In his dull stupor he felt something on his left arm. 

He looked down at his arm with trepidation and felt the soft smooth movement of a heart being draw on his forearm on a sort of loop. It must have been his soulmate, and in all honesty Yuri found the soft touch comforting. It made his throat close a little, and a warmth rise in his cheeks. He raised his right pointer finger, hesitated, then drew a heart right below that one. 

Along with jumbled thoughts in his head were the plagued visions and ideas of his soulmate. As he got older, he wasn’t so sure  _ what _ he felt. As a kid it was always black or white, good and bad. There were even times where he knew that  _ he  _ had been the one to make this bond hell. But slower and slower he go to learn that he was softly begging the heavens that he both met his soulmate and never set eyes on them. He had hurt them too much, he knew. He had done so much and for him to feel so strongly about them shocked him. 

In general, Yuri wasn’t very good with people. He could talk, yes, but with his constant anxiety the idea that he would approach someone and just... _ talk _ , surprised him. It made him progressively more worried as to what his first meeting with his soulmate would be. What if he said the wrong things? What if he upset them in some way?

A tattoo on your ass didn’t exactly start up a lot of good conversations, that’s for sure. 

The worst thing Yuri could think of was the possibility that he would never meet them, or even better, they met but didn’t like each other. It wasn’t uncommon for soulmated pairs to hold such a strong grudge that it turned into mutual hate.

Yuri shuddered at the thought. His soulmate was, not necessarily  _ kind, _ but they were caring. It didn’t seem to Yuri that his soulmate went out of their way to harm themselves or him. In fact he would say the opposite was true. Often he felt feet rubs during long days, and soothing touches on his arms he couldn’t quite explain. 

Yuri found that he did it more often, too. 

On certain days when the blinding lights of the rink and the hundreds of eyes on him got to be too much, he couldn’t resist trying to make  _ some _ type of contact. Some type of  _ anything _ . 

For a long time, he couldn’t do that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch his soulmate, more like he didn’t want touch  _ himself _ to do so. Just thinking about the casual touches he’s made makes him shudder, if only because if he wasn’t a soulmate, he wouldn’t be doing it. Worshipping himself has never been something Yuri’s good at. 

Yuri was brought out of his swarm of thoughts by a hesitant kiss on his arm, right between the two hearts they had drawn. Yuri hesitated for a moment, but kissed the space himself. 

If he closed his eyes he could imagine that he was kissing his soulmate, and not his arm in the dark of night. It was such a sweet thought, such a  _ longing _ , that when Yuri pulled his arm away he felt a few tears spring in his eyes. 

For some reason, it made Yuri feel entirely comforted, yet impossibly lonely. 

He fell asleep with his heart on his sleeve and wondering if maybe tomorrow would be the day.  _ If only _ .

Pulling himself out of sleep was always the hardest part. Going under was easy, like falling backwards and suffocating yourself on a clouded haze of unconsciousness. It was easy for him to pull himself away from his own thoughts, however bothersome and encumber-some they may seem, and fall asleep. Waking up, though? Coming back to the world he so longs to be different? That’s another story. It’s a thicker reality. 

He did it, however. He did it every morning. Small miracles, right? First step is getting up, second step put some clothes on, third step do well in the Free skate. Not too hard. Not at all. 

It could be easier, certainly. After getting his things together and making himself look decent, he was aware of an angry voice down the hall. He turned his head, his brown hair blocking his glasses for a moment as he looked to see Yakov Feltsman yelling angry Russian at a closed door, which he was pounding on. 

Yuri felt his heart give a jump and felt his whole body fill with (what he’ll call) a nervous warmth. After three more knocks, he appeared. All messy silver hair and slumped shoulders as he faced his coach and gave a weak half smile. Yakov continued his barrage of words, giving Yuri just enough time to notice that of  _ all things _ , Victor Nikiforov wasn’t wearing  _ pants _ . He was in a t-shirt and boxers, his long and pale legs barren for the world to see. Yuri looked up and their eyes met for a moment, the Russian superstar and the Japanese loser. Yuri would have held the ocean-blue eyes forever, but he was still a little thrown by the situation. His brown eyes went down to Victor’s legs, his cheeks getting warmer as he felt a blush rise on his cheeks. Yuri saw Victor look down, too, only for their eyes to meet again. Blue and Brown. 

Then, Victor Nikiforov gave a flirty wink.

Yuri hesitated. He couldn’t help it. Victor Nikiforov had a  _ soulmate _ . He talked about them all the time on national  _ television _ . He was a taken man, that was for sure. Yuri had no interest in being a homewrecker of any kind. He had his  _ own _ soulmate to care for, thank you very much. No matter how much he wanted to wink back, or lick his lip, or  _ bite _ his lip, or- 

No. Victor Nikiforov had a soulmate. He was a living legend. He was the  _ best _ . He had a soulmate.

Yuri moved towards the elevators and didn’t feel his blush go away until he was almost to the bottom floor of the building. 

~~~!~~~

Yuri did awful. Completely, horribly, terribly, stupendously, awful. It was almost comical, if he wasn’t so close to tears. Yuri Katsuki quite literally  _ crashed  _ and  _ burned _ . His free skate was a complete and  _ utter _ mess. Coming off the ice he felt hundreds of pounds on his shoulders and looking into Celestino’s eyes, he knew it was as bad as he thought it was. Going to the kiss-and-cry was worse. People got to watch on live television as he got a score lower than junior level skaters and place last with no hope to get on the podium at all. 

Of all the things he remembered about his free skate, it would be how he thought of his soulmate as he tumbled, how they would take no notice to the bruises and the fall since they had felt it all before. They were accustomed to it at this point. They could probably go about their day with no problem. 

Crying in the bathroom had helped him recuperate from the fall a little (not for the first time Yuri wondered if you feel like crying when your soulmate did, however his soulmate was always more of the cheery type), right up until the Russian Punk almost kicked his door down. Yuri had stared at the door with blurred eyes and puffy cheeks for a moment as he heard the voice. 

“Do you think a soulmate wants a cry-baby like  _ you _ ? I’ve seen more balls on a bitch!” His angry Russian accent had clipped the English in such a way that Yuri almost couldn’t understand. Yuri cautiously opened the door, surprised at such a response from someone he didn’t even know. “That free skate was  _ horrible _ . It almost made me want to puke, it was so bad! Just stay away from the ice. Retire, grandpa. No one needs you!”

The words startled Yuri out of his stupor. On one hand he wanted to defend himself, a deep longing to argue that he was  _ better _ than the performance today. On another hand, Yuri hated himself for doing so poorly. He saw the logic in the teenager’s words, and worst of all? He agreed. Some space in the middle Yuri made the logical thought not to say  _ anything _ , mainly because this was a teenage boy standing in front of him, and Yuri is a grown man. He remained silent until the blond finished his hateful words and took his leave. Yuri took a long, deep sigh, his hands brushing away the last remnants of his tears. 

He returned to his place next to Celestino, his head in the clouds. The Russian punk had a  _ point _ . Maybe he really should retire. Find another career to occupy his time. Perhaps he could work at Ice Castle with Yuuko? Or he could work at Yuutopia. He was sure his parents wouldn’t mind the extra help, and carrying on the family business was important to them, even if they had never told him or Mari specifically. Coming back from such an utter failure would be extremely difficult, and Yuri was unsure if he even wanted to try. Sure, skating was his whole world. It had been his constant companion long after he had discovered strange bruises on his feet and calluses where there should be none. It was a way to take him away from his own head most of the time, and dedicate himself to something, well,  _ fun _ . 

Only, along the way it had become a chore. He no longer thought about skating with the same passion. He viewed it as work.  _ Hard  _ work. It was brutal, sure, he knew that from the start, but without skating what was he? Who was he outside of something he is only mediocre at? He wasn’t sure, and that’s what scared him the most. Yuri continued to think, a weight in his chest pressing him ever further into his own despair.  It took his coach shaking him for Yuri to come back to reality, pushing his glasses up from where they had started to fall. 

“Huh?” Yuri got out, blinking his brown eyes as he took in Celestino’s form more clearly. 

“Victor just went. The results are in. Do you want to see the score?” Celestino replied seriously, motioning to the rink where the crowd had begun to cheer and chant Victor Nikiforov’s name. It was evident who had won. Yuri didn’t even need to guess. He shook his brown head in answer and stayed backstage. 

When it was all said and done, Yuri just wanted to go home. He was tired, and not just a regular tired. No, this was a  _ bone weary _ type of tired. The kind that most would stay home from work for, and yet here he was, going back from the rink to the hotel, praying that he might get some rest. Everything was a blur, really, right up until, well,  _ it _ happened.

Yuri took a few steps forward in the lobby, and suddenly his chest felt warm. It wasn’t like  a hot pad on his chest. More like his whole body was in a sun patch and he just happened to be shirtless. It was almost painful, in a way. His whole body felt like that, like he was filled with some type of warm cement, filling him from the ground up. 

For a moment the only thing that registered to the Japanese skater was Victor’s muscular back cloaked in his signature red and white jacket, his front facing the Russian punk and his coach. Yuri halted where he stood, anyone speaking to him instantly became white noise, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears.  _ I can’t face him _ , Yuri said to himself, his pulse quickening with his anxiety.  _ I can’t let him see such a failure. I want him to see a competitor. Someone equal. Not this. Not me.  _

Too late, it seemed, Victor turned around. He gave a surprised look for a moment, and then he broke out into a charming smirk. 

“Care for a photo?” His words cut like glass, hitting Yuri in all the wrong places. Not only did he  _ not _ know Yuri was even a competitor, but he thought Yuri was simply a  _ fan _ . And while that was true (Phichit could vouch for that with every breathe Yuri took), Victor  _ certainly _ didn’t even see Yuri as someone of lesser (or equal) status. 

Yuri wanted to open his mouth and say something confident. Maybe he would chide Victor, or even be a little snide or competitive. What happened instead was Yuri’s legs moving to turn him around and his anxieties taking over his thought process. He heard Celestino behind him, mumbling words that Yuri wasn’t paying attention to. The only thing the Japanese skater was sure of, was that he needed to get  _ out _ . When he left it sure made that heavy feeling inside himself ease up completely, leaving him almost hollow in it’s wake. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but it was a familiar one. 

Celestino kept reminding him that it was  _ only _ a banquet. That is was  _ only _ a skating event for  _ only  _ skaters. No big deal. Nothing to worry about. 

And yet?

All Yuri could remember about the event was him being miserable for the first hour or so, and going out of his way to avoid Victor as much as possible. The rest? Gone. There was nothing there. The only thing left was a pounding headache and a sore body.

A part of him knew he should be worried. He did stupid things when he was drunk, not to mention he acted like a Solo half the time. Not  _ exactly _ proper behavior for a skating banquet for formal affairs. 

The other part of him felt oddly more relaxed. The Grand Prix Final was  _ finally _ over, and now he could decide if he really did want to quit or  _ what _ . Perhaps he’d go home. He hadn’t been to Hasetsu in so long it was ridiculous, and he missed the small ocean town.  _ Yeah _ , he said to himself as he got all his stuff together to leave the hotel.  _ I think I’ll graduate and then go home. _

It was a simple plan, really. Nothing too big. Something tangible. Go back to college, get his degree, and then go home. Simple. 

He wondered silently where his soulmate fit into all of this, but he knew that things would happen in their own time. He had time to meet them. Time to go on a date, maybe. Time to  _ actually _ talk to them, sometime in the future. So it wasn’t now? It didn’t matter to Yuri. He could wait. He’d been waiting this long, after all. He could wait for his soulmate. He just hoped they could wait, too. 

His brown eyes lingered on Victor’s door as he passed it, but Yuri reminded himself that he wasn’t equal to the living legend. Victor had his  _ own _ soulmate, and pining for someone who wouldn’t even see you on the same level? That isn’t what Yuri wanted, for himself or his soulmate. 

He kept walking past the door and towards the elevator a tiny ball of hope buried in his aching chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, kudos, ANYTHING, please! It gives me the motivation I need and it helps me to get the chapters flowing faster than usual. Be sure to read my other fics in case you haven't, and check out my tumblr! (too-many-fandoms-girl.tumblr.com) Hopefully next chapter is the LAST chapter, and if not, well, it's probably because the next chapter will be a whopper. I love you guys, seriously. And Thank you. ~Cryellow


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